Imperceptible Affections
by Drachegirl14
Summary: He pondered how, when his eyesight was so sharp that he never missed a detail and he hit every shot, he had missed this blind girl. Hawkeye/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Drachegirl14: Hello! Welcome to my first Avengers story.**

**This is a testing chapter – a maiden voyage if you will. I've never attempted something like this, so please bear with me. If you guys like it enough I may continue it.**

**Summary: He pondered how, when his eyesight was so sharp that he never missed a detail and he hit every shot, he had missed this blind girl.**

**Rating: T**

**Pairing: Clint/OC**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers or Hawkeye or SHIELD or any of that. I only own Erin and her husband, their businesses, and the plotline for this story.**

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She was here again.

Agent Clint Barton entered the upper floor bar of the hidden club with the usual familiarity, his leather jacket slung casually over a simple black t-shirt and his old black jeans and combat boots. The sniper strode across the linoleum floor that was the same color as the night sky outside, making almost no sound as he did so, and he wove his way through the drunk men and women laughing and playing pool or cards at the tables under weak naked lightbulbs, slowly letting the last mission roll off his shoulders in this place of low lights and smoky air. Down the spiral staircase on the other side of the room, on the polished wooden floor of the basement, were dark red lights and flashing strobes that highlighted the writhing crowd who were little more than slaves to the heavy muffled bass beat that seemed to synchronize with his heart rate. Couples were groping and giving in to their baser desires in the dark corners both upstairs and down, but he ignored them, his sharp eyes trained on the woman who was sitting at the end of the gleaming oak bar, nursing a drink that was a rich amber color in the somewhat obscured light. She wore a white baggy knit sweater this evening, and baggy black pants over plain white tennis shoes. Her dark hair was pulled out of her face in its usual messy bun, sightless milky brown eyes staring at nothing particular as she stirred her drink with a small black straw.

She didn't seem that special, but she had become a weirdly normal fixation of this part of his life – not because she was beautiful (she was rather unremarkable in the grand scheme of things and certainly wasn't anything compared to his last target; he wasn't being mean just honest) but because it didn't matter how long his missions were, Clint knew that he would walk in the door and find her sitting here in that same spot. He would return to this club, where the alcohol was good and sometimes the food was decent, where he could let the mission roll off him; even though he was a killer, an assassin and he had no problem with that, sometimes a lingering tension would keep him from sleeping. But somehow, someway, she was always here when he showed up, and she would always find some way to distract him and get him to relax, to release said tension.

Clint had discovered this place when he had begun to roam the streets at night, before he returned to base to try and get some rest. Located down an alleyway and on the first floor of one of the older and broken down buildings nearer to the outskirts of the city, Hal's Club wasn't necessarily what he would call trendy, but it did have its own attraction of nightlife. It allowed him to let the adrenaline of the assassination missions SHIELD sent him on to escape into the air, away from him, and he would usually have a drink and then leave. His first time here, he had sat next to this woman, and she had been so startled by his presence next to her that she had spilled her drink. Delicate small tapered fingers had reached, with alarm, toward the napkin holder and fumbled with it, apologies leaving her mouth as she managed to get out a few of the cheap brown paper napkins and mop up the spill. She had bought him a drink in apology and afterwards somehow always managed to make a bit of small talk with him every time he visited.

Six months later and he found he enjoyed the small talk, and that gentle smile she would wear as she welcomed him back. She never asked where he vanished to, and he never told her, but she would always greet him warmly and proceed to simply speak to him, as though he were a good friend. Ironic, the sharpshooter thought as he grew closer to his goal, the seat next to her; she didn't even know his name, although he knew hers.

The woman was named Erin Griffin – a brilliant biochemist who focused her work on pheromones and hormones, seeking ways to potentially tweak the brain to develop natural resistances and potential cures to diseases in the world. She was married to billionaire Mike Richards, a business tycoon that was rumored to be ruthless, only desiring power and at this point in time, he had a finger in every major business in America. She wasn't ever seen in tabloids – usually her husband brought his PA with him to parties and galas and events, and she had firmly told Clint the last time he had been in here that she didn't care if her husband took "that whore bitchface" with him anywhere he went. "It keeps me out of the limelight so I can focus on my work," she said, and then added in an impish grin, "Aside from that, I would steal the show if I tried to dance with him as any normal wife would."

The tabloids and newspapers speculated her to be an antisocial nutjob. He knew her to be open, cynical, with a sharp wit and a tendency to hold hard to what she believed in. Being blind wasn't an obstacle to her; he was amazed at how she flipped life off when it caused the accident that took her sight and instead doubled her efforts to continue her work at her own company, a pharmaceutical place that sold her revolutionary medicines that were already showing less side-effects in the usual birth control pill than the ones sold by normal companies. He couldn't imagine having this perfect vision he did taken away from him; his sight was vitally important to his life, and the strain of having it removed would probably drive him to his knees. She simply took it in stride and refused to let life kill her zest, her passion.

And even though he knew these things about her, both gleaned through observation night after night, and through a bit of easily done information gathering, she knew nothing about him. And somehow, despite this lack of knowledge (in this day and age, something very dangerous), she still spoke to him easily, as though he were just another man in a bar sharing a drink with a co-worker . . . or a friend.

Clint wasn't sure what to make of that, but as she clearly wasn't trying to kill him, and she didn't want anything from him except to talk, he didn't see a problem with continuing their association. Sure helped him unwind further.

He sat next to her in the chair to her left, and was rewarded with her usual warm smile. She turned her face towards him and nodded in greeting, "Welcome back."

He allowed a faint answering smile to slide onto his lips, despite the fact that she couldn't see it. "Still here I see. Did you even move?"

She scowled at him in a friendly way, lifting her straw from the liquid she had been stirring vigorously and pointing it at him to emphasize her next statement, "I was working in the lab all week. This was my first free night in a while, smartass."

He chuckled quietly, "Oh, my mistake."

"Damn straight," her smile was still plastered onto her lips. He allowed his eyes to scan over her, frowning when he eyed a fresh bruise under her eye covered by makeup and another bruise on the side of her stomach that flashed at him when she shifted on the stool to turn and face him completely.

It wasn't his business, but his mind whispered that she was probably abused by her husband – the wedding band seemed to taunt him as it flashed on her left hand in the lighting that bounced off the mirror at the back of the bar behind the bottles of alcohol displayed in a cluttered attraction on the wooden shelves. To distract himself from things that clearly weren't his business, he waved a hand at the portly man who served as the bartender, and a glass of a clear substance was slid down the bar, stopping neatly in front of him. Salt and a lime slice followed after it, and he found he appreciated the man's showmanship, for not a drop was spilled and nothing had stopped out of place.

Hearing the usual sound of glass against wood, the woman next to him opened her mouth and gave the humorous anecdotes of her day, delivered in her usual amused tone and splattered with her cynical dry humor that matched his own. Her body language was open and inviting, but he was partner to Black Widow – he knew body language could be faked, and only after knowing this girl for six months did he hesitantly accept that her sincerity was genuine, which was surprising given what probably happened in her home and after her accident.

Her hands moved as she talked and he let her voice wash over him, dislodging that one hard piece of something in his soul that truly allowed him to calm down and be able to get a good night's rest that evening. She was so animated, he realized, and her stubborn streak was showing through as she explained how she had to set some idiot straight who had demanded that she make a drug to enhance sexual pleasure for men (and only for men).

"I'm sorry, but he refused to take no for an answer and was just . . . ugh," she finished, her nose wrinkling in displeasure and moving some of the foundation on her face, just enough to flash the faint bruising along her left cheekbone. He eyed it for a moment before forcibly reminding himself that he really needed to keep his thoughts to himself. "So enough about me – how have you been lately?"

He'd been expecting this question. "Work kept me busy."

She snorted, "I'll say. You should put in for some vacation time, hun. Otherwise you'll be run ragged and you'll lose your job."

_Or my life_, he thought, his lips twisting into a smirk, "I'm too good for them to lose." And he was – he was a master marksmen and probably one of the best agents SHIELD had; they couldn't afford to lose him.

His statement brought a gentle laughter from her lips, and he had to admit he liked the sound of it. "Oh man, someone's cocky."

"Just honest."

"I'm sure," she leveled him with an amused look of patience, the same kind a parent would give to their children who were trying to show off.

"What about you?" He couldn't resist asking, "When was the last time you got away from it all?"

Her expression darkened quickly before she struggled to place the pleasant mask back on her face, and he saw the whole thing. She was an open book when she spoke to him and he found her unabashed honesty and inability to hide her emotions very refreshing. He trusted his partner above all else – no one made a better team than he and Natasha, but sometimes he found her perchance to be blank and not give any emotion . . . tiring. He understood her better than most and dared to call her a friend (privately, because he knew in their line of work any personal attachment, romantic or otherwise, could be deadly), but he well knew that even he didn't truly know or understand Natasha Romanoff.

Erin's ability to wear her heart on her sleeve, while a weakness in his field, was something he had discovered he appreciated. Despite her hardships and this cold and broken and corrupt world, she had an optimism about her and the rare skill to show what she was feeling with the guts to hold true to said feelings. It was . . . relaxing . . . to just trust that what emotions flashed across her face and body language were real, were genuine, and he admitted, at least to himself silently in the confines of his own mind, that it was a nice change of pace.

"Oh, a while ago," her forced nonchalant reply broke him from his thoughts and she returned to her drink, tossing it down like a pro. He scattered a bit of salt onto his bare wrist, tossed his shot back, then licked the salt and sucked the lime slice immediately afterward. The harsh burning in his throat was soon transformed into a pleasant one, spreading through his body and he sighed through his nose, finally feeling the last vestiges of the adrenaline fade into obscurity.

"That's better, neh?" she murmured softly, her shoulders slumping slightly as though a weight had vanished from them and her visionless eyes on the glass in front of her.

"Yeah," he replied back truthfully. He looked over from his own empty glass to once more watch her as she heaved a sigh and turned back to face him on her stool.

She gave him a sad smile, one he had begun to notice was more prominent and present at the end of each of his visits here, "Guess it's time to go . . ." He never stayed long after he finished one drink – that and Erin's determination to chit-chat with him was more than enough to let the stress of any mission slip away from his soul and allow him to sink into sleep's embrace easily.

"I think so," Clint pulled out a couple of bills and threw them down next to his drink.

"I'll see you later then," she almost-whispered, and he barely heard her over the almost hypnotic thumping of the muffled bass beneath his feet and the laughing and chattering of the drunken idiots behind him. Her head lowered so her face would have been gazing at her lap, rendering his ability to see her face null and void.

He clapped a hand on her shoulder, her expression shifting to surprise as her head shot back up to face him. It was almost comical, how wide her eyes were, and he chuckled again, quietly. He hadn't ever established physical contact with her before, but this time it seemed normal. It seemed right. And she understood, her lips quirking, up into that familiar warm smile and she patted his hand once, a silent exchange of goodbye that felt natural.

As he left, he pondered how, when his eyesight was so sharp that he never missed a detail and he hit every shot, he missed this blind girl, and how she had somehow become integrated into his usual routine.


	2. Chapter 2

**I am truly flattered by the positive responses I've gotten thus far! Thank you to all who have taken the time to read my story and double thank you to all who reviewed or left me a note in my PM box or favorite this, etc. I appreciate it!**

**I struggled with this chapter a bit – I'm not one hundred percent happy with it but I figured keep writing while the juices are flowing.**

**Moreover, I forgot to mention most of these chapters are inspired by songs. The first chapter was somewhat inspired by Rihanna's We Found Love (which I don't own) and this one is fairly inspired by Bryan Adam's You Can't Take Me (which I also don't own). Give them a listen if you haven't heard them before.**

**Also, Caroline's escape was inspired by a specific video game – cookie to whomever figures it out!**

**Warnings: Mentions of abuse in this chapter - it's not happening yet but it's mentioned XD  
**

**Disclaimer: I do not own ANYTHING except Erin, her husband, her business, her backstory, and Caroline.**

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Leaving Hal's Club was always bittersweet for her. It both meant the happiness of hearing her friend and knowing he was alive and well, despite not knowing anything about him at all, and the sadness of hearing him leave, and having to return home where the slightest thing could set off that cold, hard statue she had been pushed into marrying. Brushing her fingers against her phone, she took it out of the pouch on her belt and let her fingers run across the Braille buttons, typing in a message and sending it to her driver. She placed exact change for her drink next to the empty glass and slowly slid off her seat, standing and waiting for the driver to appear.

A few moments later, a hand brushed against her upper arm and she was led, gently, out of the club by the woman she knew was wearing a black business suit with her normally rebellious brown hair tucked neatly into the chauffeur's cap. Erin smiled slightly, relaxing as she moved through the crowd without bumping into anyone and out the door, feeling the cool night air splash onto her face and flushed cheeks and eliciting a shiver from her body despite being clothed in a warm sweater to hide her bruises.

The click of the door opening was loud against the alleyway walls but Erin hardly minded it, finding her way to the open space in the stretch black vehicle and sliding into the seat with practiced ease. The door was shut firmly behind her and she sighed, buckling her seatbelt and leaning back against the warmed interior leather. Her dim memory provided her with a sketchy layout of the limousine; she could still imagine the chic black interior accented with sleek silver lines and vine patterns engraved onto the black lacquer surfaces. She leaned forward, running her right hand along the right side of the car and finding the smooth ebony surface that was concealing what she sought. Pressing against the top of the cabinet, Erin popped open the lid and slid one cold water bottle out of the hidden cooler. She shut the lid and settled back, twisting open the cap and letting the icy spring water slip inside of her mouth, chasing down the last of the alcohol and cooling her warmed body.

She heard the front driver's door open and shut, and the rustle of fabric as her best friend buckled her own seat belt and started the car. Erin could hear the mischievous smile in her friend's tone as the woman casually asked her, "So, Erin, how was the club tonight?"

Erin simply shook her head, feeling her lips twitch up into a bemused smile, "I had one drink, Caroline. One drink, and now I am heading home." She felt her body jerk back slightly as the limo began to roll away from the entrance to the alleyway bar and club, and quietly marveled to herself at how her body had compensated for being blind – despite being only 25 years old, and spending the last ten years in her current state, her body had adjusted itself within the first year, and her other senses had rocketed into overdrive. Now, for example, she could still smell the scent of smoke and alcohol on her, as well as the supple scent of leather and the dash of cologne that indicated her husband had been in the car recently – perhaps a couple of hours ago. Back at the club, despite the muffled bass beat pounding in time with her heartbeat, she could hear the laughter of the drunks, the moans from the nearby corner of a woman in the throes of pleasure, and every nuance of the quiet baritone voice that traded jibes with her as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Rolling down the window with the tiny switch located on her arm rest, her skin worshiped the glorious night air that smelled crisp and clean – winter was definitely gone and spring was definitely here. Her world might have been permanent darkness, but that didn't mean she couldn't function, couldn't live.

"And you didn't see anyone special?" Caroline's words were carefully phrased.

Erin sighed through her nose quietly. Though her driver, and best friend since grade school, definitely wanted to beat the crap out of Mike for the abuse he put her employer through, and though she was more than glad to help her sneak in and out of the house each night to get a few hours of freedom, the other woman was very concerned about this strange man she had met six months ago at Hal's. Erin, while glad her friend was looking out for her, felt exasperation at the girl's naturally suspicious nature. No, she didn't know his name, or what he looked like, or what he did that he was a somewhat regular irregular patron at her favorite bar, but all they did was talk for Pete's sake! It was nice to have a man who wasn't prepared to beat her simply because he wanted to, simply because he could; it was relief to have a man who wasn't seeking anything from her but a bit of conversation before he turned in for the night to share her day with. Better still, the man had a wit to match hers and didn't hesitate to mutter a dry sarcastic comment in return to one of her own.

She liked him. Somehow, she could just tell that he was a good man – no matter what he did or who he was – and yes, in spite of not knowing anything about him she did admit that he made her life easier, created a small moment of peace that was a welcome and necessary respite from her hell of a life. Caroline on the other hand . . .

"Yeah. He came back tonight," Erin murmured softly, her shoulder still mourning the comforting good-bye it had received when he had squeezed her shoulder before he had left.

It was the first time he'd made contact with her – she was thrilled for some reason, but she refused to look at said reason too closely. This unknown man, without knowing it, helped break the cycle of never-ending abuse and never-ending struggle; she would never give up on life, but these few moments allowed her to simply be a woman and refreshed her weary spirit. The hardest times were when she had to keep working, keep fighting, keep suffering at the hands of the wraith she married; he alleviated all of that and let her just be herself, without any sort of expectations. She would not, absolutely positively would NOT, look into his actions as anything other than a man who was simply enjoying a drink and talking with an acquaintance. Erin was nothing if not stubborn, and it was showing through as she took her excitement from that touch and slammed it into the deepest, darkest crevices of her mind, far away from her conscious thoughts.

"And you talked?" Caroline pried.

Erin set her jaw and nodded once, defiantly. "I asked him how he was and he said work kept him busy, so I offered the time honored cure of taking a vacation so he didn't get worn out and lose his job."

Caroline shook her head – Erin could hear the fabric shifting and her sigh that accompanied it told her that her friend was still not happy, but would deal with it. Tension slowly permeated the air but it was offset by the companionable silence that reigned supreme as Caroline navigated the car through the quiet backstreets to her plush home in the richer district of the city. The car was silent as it slid past the gates and up to the curb in front of the brick mansion, large glass windows dark and not a single sound heard from inside, all its occupants asleep. Caroline was a mere whisper in the night, softly opening her door after shutting off the car and closing it just as silently, creeping around to open the door for Erin and helping her out. The blind woman easily navigated up the luxurious stone steps, her feet light and gentle against the stone to nullify any sound that may have come from her steps. Her fingers, with smooth and practiced movements, grasped the key from where she had hidden it in her back pocket, and she felt down the door until she came into contact with the smooth cold brass handle. Gently, her thumb ran across the keyhole and she was able to slip the key inside and unlock the large wooden door without too much trouble. Inside, Caroline promptly and quickly shut the door, and led Erin over the fluffy white carpet to the stairs. Both ascended to the second floor with no noise, but Erin's frame was wrought with tension, her muscles stiff and breathing quick pants through her mouth, and Caroline's eyes darted every which way, the moonlight a blessing as it illuminated their journey through the upper hallways to the second master bedroom Erin claimed as her own.

The worst part was venturing past the door under which false light spilled onto the carpet. From within the walls, pacing could be heard and a deep muffled voice speaking, then stopping, and speaking again. Both women crept past it as softly as they could, moving only when the voice was speaking and stopping as soon as it was silent. Erin's legs were shaking from nerves, her mind recalling the pain from past beatings, before a stronger baritone banished them and she drew his voice around her like a cloak, drawing strength from the masculine spirit who had given her a few moments of relaxing peace a mere hour beforehand.

It took them some time before they were successfully able to creep past the closed door and down the hallway, to the left. At the very end of this corridor was a locked oak door; both women sped towards it, balancing on their toes in order to avoid too much noise. Quickly, Erin pulled a small silver key from her pocket and slid it in, her somewhat shaky hands making her first few attempts at placing it into the lock fumble fairly badly. Caroline, somewhat impatient, gripped Erin's wrist and slid it into the correct place, both girls twisting the lock and Caroline shoving the other woman inside. With a soft exchanged of goodbyes and good nights, Caroline silently closed the door on her friend who was hastily disrobing and putting on an over-sized t-shirt and sleep shorts.

She looked left and right, and then headed to the glass door built into the window on the opposite wall. She opened the door and slipped outside, running to the edge of the large stone balcony and swinging herself over the edge, catching on the bottom stone crevice and slowly using her hands to maneuver herself over to the right, where she grabbed onto the ledge just above another window that led into the ballroom. Her hands were sure and steady as she let herself dangle and then drop a few feet, this time seizing onto a small decorative stone flower about midway down the side of the window. She was still dangling about ten feet off of the ground, and as she looked around she couldn't see any other hand holds. Snorting to herself, Caroline simply placed her feet on the wall in front of her and after a silent countdown, she released her firm grip from her perch and pushed against the wall, letting her fall the last ten feet to the luscious grass that cradled her fall, absorbing the impact of her fall as she bent her knees upon landing. Racing away, through the flower gardens and around the neatly trimmed hedges, the girl made it to the back of the iron fence and shimmied easily up the gates, over and down, and disappeared from the mansion.

The young driver made it home to her own apartment with no trouble, sighing in relief as she entered her domain and locked the door behind her. She rubbed at her face as she turned on the kitchen light and then headed to her room, sighing and flopping down on the unkempt bed and starring at the ceiling, the moonlight casting dancing shadows in her room from the tree leaves swaying in the almost non-existent breeze outside.

She hated deceiving her friend this way. She really did. But so long as she did her job, and kept Erin safe, that was all that mattered in the end, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again I am beyond flattered at the positive reception this has gotten! Thank you all so much to my favorite-ers, my alerters, my lurkers (those who read but don't review) and my reviewers. You guys rock!**

**No one guessed which game I took my inspiration from, so I get the cookie!**

**This chapter was fun to write – it's where we start to see Erin's usefulness and how wacky my brain gets. Keep in mind, I have no biochemistry experience. I am a simple Life-Earth Science Education major. HOWEVER I have been taking microbiology and I feel I can BS this enough to work. PLEASE do not send me angry reviews and letters about how I fail at life because I am not accurate on this. K thx bye.**

**This chapter was inspired, partially at least, by the song Whispers In The Dark by Skillet. PARTIALLY. It doesn't fit this JUST yet but is slowly going in that direction.**

**Plot-wise, if we're looking at the universe of Marvel Movies, Iron Man 1 and 2 has happened. I haven't seen the Hulk movies, but I'm going to go ahead and say they happened. And that Bruce Banner IS in this story played by Mark Ruffalo, because the man is amazing. Obviously Captain America has happened. This chapter is set during-ish/after-ish Thor. K? Good.**

**Last note, I promise, but underline and italics means emphasis okay? Plain italics are thoughts guys.**

**Disclaimer: Me no owny, you no sue-y. Yes? Yes.**

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She couldn't stare, but if she had the vision to do so, she would've.

Her tests, her experiments, this project she had been working on for so god-damn long, since her graduation from the university with her master's just this past summer, was finally complete.

The results were STUNNING.

Her hypothesis had existed since her early college days. Her bachelor degree had set the background work into her mind and her master degree saw the blooming of the idea into what she was doing now; figuring how to use microorganisms, hormones and pheromones to potentially increase the body's natural defenses against diseases. Erin had run so many scenarios, theoretical of course, but if she was right . . . if this research, if these tests were right . . . these experiments she had been running for so long . . .

And she had run duplicates of the exact same experiment, done the exact same things, and each of her tests was now telling her the exact same result.

Not only had she potentially found a way to increase a human's natural resistances toward diseases by tweaking a few levels of hormones, but also . . . if her results were right . . . of increasing the human's natural abilities.

Oh sweet mother goddess above, she had potentially . . . she had just . . .

Erin leapt away from the desk, screaming in joy at the top of her lungs. It echoed from her lab inside the bowels of her pharmaceutical company, through the other labs and rooms where her colleagues and scientists that worked for her looked up at the sound, and all the way to the lobby. A familiar brown-haired woman snapped up into attention and then raced down the hallway, past the neatly arranged front desk and the professional male attending the phones, past the doors where people had poked their heads out to find out what was happening, past the numerous twists and turns and straight to her best friend's workplace.

Caroline was pulled up to a stop at the sight of her boss dancing around like a teenager, screaming and squeaking and babbling and despite the numerous fresh bruises from the past week on her skin and the dark bags under her eyes as proof of her lack of sleep, she looked stunning and was absolutely glowing, her sightless eyes alight and sparkling. Caroline leaned against the door jamb, and cleared her throat loudly, "And what is so exciting that you gave me a heart attack?"

Erin tripped at the voice, steadying herself on the desk, before whirling about and smiling widely at her, "I did it Caroline! I did it!" She rushed over and grabbed the woman in a tight hug, "These experiments proved it! I did it!"

Caroline laughed and disengaged from the hug, "It's great that you did it, but I don't know what _it_ is hun."

Erin's eyes couldn't get brighter, "I figured out how to raise the body's resistances, and get this, if I work with the same levels of hormones and pheromones and add in a few simple microorganisms I can not only change the natural resistances of humans to be mostly immune to many types of bacterial and viral diseases BUT I can also _raise the natural abilities of a human being_!"

Caroline froze, Erin's rambling starting to dim in her ears and fade into the background as her mind took this information, processed it, and left her at a crossroads.

A large part of her was thrilled at her friend's success. She remembered Erin's sleepless nights**:** working hard on the details for her results and painstakingly refining her hypothesis and observations, trying different combinations and working her ass off in general to prove that she could do this, even while being blind. Caroline was proud of her friend, and could see the sheer wonder pouring out from the girl's soul, as though she couldn't quite comprehend that she had accomplished what she set out to do, that her work was finally coming to fruition.

But the other part of her, the one that was trained and honed to get close to her target, to find all the information she could, and get out so one of her trained assassin comrades could come in and kill the sucker if the information proved valuable enough, it was frozen by the shock of the magnitude of this particular piece of treasure. If this girl, with some work, could essentially create a natural serum that mimicked that of the great Erskine and could potentially produce more like the legendary Captain America . . .

The consequences of the revelation were staggering and that sent Caroline reeling. _What do I do now?_

"Caroline?" Erin had paused her babbling, recognizing the silence around them and sensing the tension in the air that was suddenly far too present. "Hun? You okay?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Caroline smiled weakly, glad her friend couldn't see how pale she was. "Sorry, girl, just a lot to take in at once. The possibilities . . ."

"Are astounding," Erin finished, "I know. I can't say it for sure yet either, I have to do many more tests and I wish Dr. Banner hadn't vanished from the face of the planet because I think having him look over my work would be so helpful considering I sort of used part of it by seeing if these twisted plasmids would have any effect with the microorganisms I used, but he has and I don't particularly feel comfortable releasing this to anyone else so I mean it's gonna be a while before I can confirm this but—"

Caroline laughed, feeling a slight strain to act normal before she could slip away for a few moments. "Erin, Erin, calm down. Come on, I think with this breakthrough you deserve an early day."

"Oh no, no, no. I have to do some budgeting things and look over the reports from the others who work in the department that deals with sexual aids, but I think I'll leave a bit early . . . good call," Erin hugged her again, not entirely unaware of the stiffness of the returned embrace, before she pulled back and skipped happily over to her results, saving it onto her hard-drive, her password encrypted flash drive, and a small CD. Caroline smiled wearily and left, giving a vague but plausible explanation to any questioning looks and receiving fond smiles of exasperation– everyone who worked here was familiar with Erin's tendency to over-react, and her phobia of arachnids and insects.

As she walked, Caroline debated. She debated and yelled and screamed inside her mind but she knew what she was going to do. No matter that she was Erin's best friend and that she was glad her friend had finally done it, had finally, officially, flipped life off after the shitty hand she'd been dealt by it; she was trained to do what she needed to do. She arrived at the back of the building and slipped through an unremarkable grey door into the alleyway unseen, pulling a black cell phone from the interior pocket of her jacket with shaky hands. Flipping it open, she dialed a specific code in and hit send, waiting impatiently and fighting against a rather stubborn sense of guilt that was pricking her consciousness.

A rather quiet female voice answered and she spoke tersely, glancing around and upwards nervously, hoping she wouldn't get caught and feeling like she might be making the biggest mistake of her life, "I need to speak to him. Put me through. It's important."

There was silence on the other end for a moment before a masculine voice, one that wasn't as deep as the head honcho's was, answered in the affirmative with his designation.

"This is Caroline Greyson," she said quickly. "I saw the news and know you're busy in the southern area, but listen. There's been a bit of a change."

* * *

She'd left work early, thankful for Caroline's intervention before she started getting too much of a migraine trying to argue with the man who had put forward yet another request to enhance the sexual pleasure of only men. The guy was a serious pig – he firmly believed women should only live to serve men and that included if not specified the bedroom area of life.

She wanted to smack him – he was talking to a woman and he wanted her to agree with his backwards view? Erin sighed out her nose in disgust as she changed from her professional wear to what she had termed her bar clothes – she was told it was a pair of dark jeans, her favorite comfy white tennis shoes, and usually a long sleeved shirt to hide her bruises; tonight she had grabbed a random long-sleeved cotton t-shirt out of her closet, her fingers dancing along the small Braille holes she had dug into the tag to find the color of the shirt in order to better coordinate her accessories. She winced in pain when she lifted her arms to put the top on over her head – internal bruising had been done almost every night that week as well as memories that she forcibly blocked from her own mind in order to ignore any damage it could cause to her psyche. Aside from that, her breakthrough earlier today inspired such a feeling of pride and accomplishment that she simply could care less about the pain her body was in, about the hell the sleepless nights had been on her the past few days. Sure, she felt a bit dizzy and yes her mind felt fuzzy from exhaustion but she was determined to go to that bar tonight.

Something told her he'd be there. And she could share something so brilliant and exciting with him . . .

Giddy as a schoolgirl, Erin finished dressing and pulled her hair out of her face into a bun, done on feeling alone. Into her ears she slipped her favorite pair of ruby earrings that matched her top (she always kept them in the same place in her jewelry box – in the right hand corner under a simple silver necklace) before she grabbed her red clutch from the drawer next to her bed and eased her way out of her room and then the mansion. Though most of the staff was sympathetic to their mistress' plight and wouldn't breathe a word of her sneaking away from the home to her abuser, there were those who didn't care about her and would gladly report her to him, so she always made sure to be as silent as possible, using her grace she'd picked up from ballroom dancing to make her time a bit easier. Caroline met her in the foyer at the bottom of the grand staircase, helping her escape from this hell hole and to her little place in paradise.

She was ushered into the limo, babbling quietly about anything in particular that came to mind, feeling unusually twitchy as her high of the day continued; Caroline took it all in stride, but Erin noticed her friend seemed more subdued, more forced, than before.

She wanted to ask what was wrong, but eventually decided against it. Caroline never pushed her on things she was sorting through herself – she knew that her best friend and employee would talk to her if she needed someone.

Pulling up just as the last of the sun set behind the horizon and streaking the sky in reds and golds, she stepped out of the limo and inhaled the smell of a warm spring evening. Her ridiculous level of joy put a truly stunning smile on her face and despite her exhaustion she was led inside and placed in her usual spot. The girl seemed to vibrate in her seat and Caroline's lips quirked, before she left the girl to her usual routine.

The man behind the counter smiled gently at the woman, sensing her happiness and glad to see the girl in high spirits for once before her mysterious friend got here. He quietly got her usual drink and prepared the same for her friend as he did every night she showed up. He didn't even know if the man would come, but he hoped the guy would show tonight – the girl just had this vibrancy he didn't want to see vanish because some guy didn't show up.

She gave him a quiet thank you that was at odds with her apparent excitement when he handed her his drink, and he was called away to serve other patrons.

She waited. And waited. And waited.

And her rather impatient patience was rewarded when she heard a dry chuckle from her left, "What's got you so keyed up?"

She turned eyes onto him, hoping she was looking at him, and couldn't hold it in any longer. "I did it! I did it! I can't believe it but it finally happened and all the duplicates have run the same way and I need to get it looked over I really wish Dr. Banner hadn't vanished because he would've been able to look this over and help me become more unbiased but the point is I did it!" She could barely control herself, leaning forward and very much wanting to embrace him.

She heard another dry chuckle, "Well I suppose congratulations are in order, for whatever it is then."

Erin nodded her head emphatically, "I just . . . I can't believe it actually happened."

She swore he was starring at her before scolding her overactive imagination – he probably wasn't even looking at her. Her whole body was tingling and she just felt so happy and suddenly, so very . . . very light-headed . . .

Placing one hand to her temple, she let out a soft moan, closing her eyes against the onslaught of sudden dizziness, not that it helped. Her body swayed dangerously, before strong hands were on her upper arms. A strange masculine scent invaded her nose with a vengeance – he smelled like the wind, a clean sun-warmed scent that was somehow so comforting and he also smelled like . . . like . . .

She couldn't name it. It heightened her dizziness though, because her body was suddenly tingling more where he was touching her, his heat bleeding through the fabric and steadying her, suffusing her with a much needed strength boost because she was just so . . . tired . . .

Erin couldn't even muster the normal stubbornness to push away the sudden blush covering her cheeks – her face burned and she wasn't sure she wanted to know from what.

"Easy. You've been drinking a lot?" Was his voice concerned? A delirious bubble of hope bloomed in her chest, but she struggled to force it away. It was nice he was concerned. That was all.

That was all.

_That._

_Was._

_All._

She wearily shook her head, answering his question, "I'm . . . I'm just a little sleepy . . ." She tried to pull herself together, hating herself in that moment. What was wrong with her? _Pull yourself together, Erin!_

His hands removed themselves and she heard him ask, "You got someone you can call? You probably shouldn't be driving like this."

"I . . . uhm, yeah . . ." She dragged her phone out of the clutch and hit the speed dial number one. In seconds, she heard Caroline's voice say something about being there in a moment, before the dial tone sounded, competing with the pounding bass beat that seemed to be unusually aggravating tonight. Erin laid her head on the polished wood under her hands and relaxed, feeling her awareness slip away from her as she finally, finally, let go and let herself fall into unconsciousness.

* * *

Clint's eyes went straight to her when he entered the club. She looked a bit different today – ignoring the baggy long sleeved tops she usually went for, instead simply shooting for a long-sleeved t-shirt that did nothing to hide curves he had honestly not known she possessed. His eyes lingered on her body for a moment, before they drifted up to her face as he approached her for his normal seat on her left.

She seemed to be vibrating with an unknown energy and he saw a huge grin on her lips, his own quirking into a much smaller, much fainter answering smile. He sat down and gave a nod to the bartender as his drink was immediately placed in front of him before turning to his excited companion, "What's got you all keyed up?"

Her face swung to him and he felt himself lean back slightly in response; her smile's force was huge and it lit up her face in a way he'd never seen – her eyes glittered fiercely in the light and she seemed to glow from within. Her explanation was heard, however, with only half an ear as his sniper's sight easily and quickly alerted him to the heavy dark bags under her eyes, how pale her skin was, and the huge ugly black bruises peeping at him from along her shirt's neckline and hemlines.

He suddenly felt furious – he'd only been gone for one week in New Mexico, dealing with the crazy shenanigans down there, and she had . . . she had . . . she . . .

He shook his head and took his shot much quicker and sooner than he had been anticipating. Finishing it as fast as he could, he got his anger under control (a bit alarmed at how fast it had flared up), and looked back at her, looking so eager, looking for all the world like it was so vital that she share this with him . . . and the fact that she was so over-excited to share this, a part of her life that meant so much to her, with him, with a total stranger who . . .

He didn't want to follow this train of thought. Clint shoved it from his mind viciously and chuckled at her over exuberance, "Well I suppose congratulations are in order, for whatever it is then."

Erin sighed happily, her face still alight, as she nodded excitedly, "I just . . . I can't believe it actually happened."

He watched her flush happily for a moment before the color drained from her face and she dropped her head toward her hand, which massaged her temple uneasily. His hearing picked up a soft groan from her lips, a gentle noise that had a very unexpected effect on his psyche; upon hearing it, the blood in his body decided to flow in a southerly direction to a certain place between his legs.

It had been a while since he had been with a woman, evidenced by his mind's sudden willingness to imagine what would happen if he leaned forward and put his lips to hers.

He'd need to rectify that, and NOT with the woman sitting next to him.

Clint frowned and was dragged from his internal battle, however, when Erin swayed slightly in her seat. She started to fall forward and his hands shot out, firmly locking around her upper arms and holding her there. "Easy. You been drinking a lot?" He was curious and a bit concerned – the woman was usually fairly responsible. Leaning this close to her, however, gave Clint a very good up close and personal view of the curves he'd been eyeing moments before and also allowed a delicate hint of something that smelled soft and sweet to tease his sense of smell before he forced it away and focused back on her. She might not be the sexiest or most beautiful woman he'd ever seen or met, but right now, something about her was attracting his attention in the worst way possible.

She shook her head slowly, and his mind whispered quietly to him what he had guessed as soon as she gave the negative, her voice sluggish now, "I'm . . . I'm just a little sleepy . . ."

He frowned, "You got someone you can call? You probably shouldn't be driving like this." He didn't know if she drove for sure herself – he assumed not but who knew for sure? He released her when he was certain she wouldn't fall flat on her face and tried to deny that her alluring scent and soft heat seeping from her t-shirt had any sort of positive effect on his body.

He would definitely need to fix this problem as soon as he left.

She nodded once, struggling for her phone in a ruby red clutch that matched her earrings and shirt. Pulling out a sleek black cell phone, she dialed the number one, and he heard a faint female voice say something. Erin seemed to take this as a confirmation, and laid her head on the wood. He watched as her eyes blinked once, twice, then stayed closed, her entire body relaxing and slumping forward. Keen blue eyes traced her peaceful face for a few seconds, before he lifted his head and waited patiently, making sure to take his shot and leaving the money to cover his drink and hers.

The irony that he was the one to pay for her drink while she was passed out from exhaustion was not lost on him – at least now he wouldn't owe her for the first time he'd wandered in here.

He ensured that she didn't fall from her seat, the moments ticking by like molasses, but Clint was used to waiting. As a sniper, he had to have patience in spades, with the ability to hold still for a long time. He was used to having to be patient and wait for the perfect second to let the arrow fly from his grasp, straight into the target's chest. Unlike most men, Clint didn't fidget as the moments slowly slid past the two of them, nor did he try to find something to occupy his attention.

Every iota of his focus was on the door to the upper level and on the slumbering woman beside him.

And it was rewarded when a woman with somewhat unruly thick curly brown hair burst through the door, her shining bright brown eyes scanning the room and stopping on her friend. She moved quickly, with an efficiency that spoke of one who had been trained to react to the best of their ability in a situation.

Almost like him, or any other SHIELD agent.

She reached them, a crisp black business suit clothing her and a chauffer's hat nestled onto her dark brown locks. He studied her intently as she laid a gentle hand on Erin's shoulder; she was stronger and quicker than she appeared to be, and he noted how her eyes swept over to him and studied him briefly, a flare of recognition in the chocolate depths before she turned back to Erin, gently leaning down as though to pick her up.

He saw the problem before the girl opened her mouth, "Not gonna be easy, hauling her out of her on your own."

He was gifted with a suspicious glance and had to hold back a smirk; he approved of her caution. "I'm just saying."

Her eyes analyzed the situation before she sighed out her nose and nodded once, a tight and uncomfortable gesture he enjoyed getting out of her, "What do you propose . . . sir?"

She had hesitated before addressing him. His eyes narrowed but he moved over to Erin's other side. He slid one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees and hefted her easily. She wasn't as light as Natasha was, but wasn't as heavy as some of the agents he worked with were.

Her weight was . . . comforting. And it felt . . . natural . . . resting against his chest the way it was.

His face remained expressionless as he jerked his head toward the door, "You parked out there?"

"Yes," the answer was clipped, terse, and she grabbed Erin's clutch before heading in that direction, Clint following her out slowly and unhurriedly, unwilling to admit that he was very much enjoying holding her body close to him but unable to find it within him to be as detached as he needed to be.

The woman opened the door of the black stretch limo and Clint sat and maneuvered himself so he could slip Erin onto the seat comfortably. The sleeping girl's face furrowed for a moment, one hand weakly clutching to the leather of his jacket, but it was an easily rectified issue as he gently tugged the fabric from her grip, brushing his fingers gently against her cheek for a moment and far more satisfied than he should have been to see the furrows on her brow smooth and her face relax once more. He slid out of the limo and the driver shut the door rather forcefully. "Thank you for your assistance . . . sir."

The hesitation again – she had caught herself before she said anything, but before he could question her she was fleeing to the other side of the expensive car and getting into the driver's seat, slamming it shut and taking off out of the alleyway, leaving him alone in the cooling night air.

His fingers were tingling from where they had brushed her cheek.

Clint snarled quietly and clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. He turned and headed deeper into the shadows of the alley – he wasn't getting any sort of sleep tonight until he could find a release for the tension that had formed in the pit of his stomach the moment he had caught Erin from falling forward.


	4. Chapter 4

**As always, thank you to all my reviewers, lurkers, readers, favorite-ers, alerters and just generally awesome people that let me know I'm doing SOMETHING right with this. I would respectfully ask that you lurkers drop me a review at some point so I can get feedback, but at this point, you've alerted me, which tells me good things.**

**Saw Avengers for the third time the other night, with plans to go see it a fourth time. I love this movie. Not that you could tell by looking at my desktop or anything. **

**I'd like to know what you guys think of the pacing of Erin's and Clint's relationship. Some of the problems I can see are that authors nowadays are so looking forward to writing the relationship that they just jump into it; I'm trying to show the relationship developing. Am I being successful at it? If not, what do I need to improve on?**

**Cookie to those who answer the above questions.**

**Plot-wise, this chapter sort of takes place a bit before the Avengers actually happens. Next chappie will dive straight into the movie. **

**This chappie is inspired by the song First Time by Lifehouse. Great song. Fits this chapter relatively well methinks.**

**I am contemplating shooting this story up to M – if not now then in the future. After the movie arc is done and I move on into the other plot for this story, I will definitely need to up it, because things get a lot more graphic then. Thoughts?**

**Last note and I'm done – just as last time, italics indicate thoughts and italics plus underlined equal emphasis.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own. You do not sue. See how this works?**

* * *

Something had changed.

Somewhere over her excitement of her experiments gone right, the whirlwind of activity she had been through the past two months, and despite suffering many sleepless nights in order to ice and heat the bruises done by the beatings that were happening nightly now, something had changed between herself and her mysterious bar compatriot.

His humor came more quickly now. She could hear the smallest of smiles in his voice whenever he spoke to her. He had begun to stay later after his one drink, spending the time simply talking to her. She still didn't know his name or what his job was (though he had been fairly steady with his visits, only gone for one or two nights before reappearing as soundlessly as he had vanished), but he was slowly opening up to her.

Erin learned he enjoyed archery, and was a very patient man. He listened to her and offered comments from an outsider's perspective, forcing her to think on the fly and adapt to his way of thinking in order to understand his solutions. He wasn't ruthless or vicious, but he did have a single-minded drive when forcing her to confront issues that she had with people. In return, she offered the tidbits about her day in addition to what she was working on, her goals in life, her dreams, her values.

They had a rather heated argument over which was better, peanut butter with grape jelly or strawberry jelly.

Then there was the way her heart would flutter eagerly in her chest whenever she heard his voice; it left her feeling happy for no reason and though she struggled against these newfound feelings, she was rapidly losing the battle. It got to the point that even through the pain her husband sought to inflict on her every night, she would retreat mentally and play his voice over and over again, letting the soothing dry baritone take her back to her small place of paradise and peace.

Moreover, and this was most alarming, was the fact that she now craved his touch, and she was getting what she wanted.

There were small fleeting touches that she wasn't sure if she imagined or not, done in an almost absentmindedly fashion by the man who sat next to her, done against her cheek to brush away a stray piece of hair or against her hand with fingertips calloused from whatever his job was. Erin swore that he sat closer to her as well, just a few inches, but inches that made all the difference; their arms just touched together when they sat down to their drinks now.

That wasn't to say she was completely innocent in this; she purposefully would pat his arm, or squeeze his shoulder, or do something to have her hands placed on his body. She got the idea that he was in very good condition from the muscles that rippled under his skin; it had inspired a slew of fantasies and she cursed the one night he had chosen to take off his jacket, leaving bare skin to surprise her when she had jokingly knocked her shoulder into his at his ribbing of something or other. At the same time, she was deliriously thankful for it, the contact sending skittering sparks along her nerves and eliciting a sigh of appreciation every time she remembered it.

But then, there were the intentional touches. Their new good-bye had involved him squeezing her shoulder in an affectionate way, and her hand would come up to rest on his own, squeezing it in response, and she would shower him with her warmest smile and tell him that she would see him later. He would respond with some snarky comment and leave, her laughter following him out the door. She knew he touched her more often – their hellos now consisted of him murmuring her name right next to her ear with a gentle caress to the same shoulder he squeezed good-bye.

The first time, she had jumped ten feet in the air, not expecting him to be so close. He had laughed and she had laughed and then she had given him a joking punch on the arm.

"Not funny!"

"You're laughing."

_Oh Erin girl_, she thought as she stirred her drink restlessly, hoping he would continue his streak of visits. _What are you doing?_

She had taken to slipping off her wedding band whenever she entered this place. It seemed like a heavy weight on her hand, a reminder that this place was only temporary and she would have to return to work and Hell as soon as she left. Erin didn't want to mar these precious memories she was carefully savoring and locking away to remember later with anything like that.

Most women and media sources would say she was cheating on her husband. Sometimes, she did wish she wasn't married so she could approach this man, this one who actually seemed to care for her. And she, despite all the things that told her she shouldn't, was beginning to care for him back. At least, she hoped her feelings were being reciprocated. She wet her lips and took a sip of the cold amber alcohol, shivering as it entered her system.

Caroline didn't say anything about him anymore. Her best friend had simply said that she had some respect for him now; Erin supposed that not molesting an unconscious exhausted woman and instead carrying her out to her car raised the man's stock in her friend's eyes.

It was important she approve of him; Erin desperately pretended she didn't know why.

Still, things had changed. That was what mattered. And though it terrified her, one of the things she learned as a scientist was that if she truly wanted change she needed to continue the feedback, push the situation to place where it had to find a new threshold, a new norm.

Tonight she was going to ask him his name.

And she was so nervous.

A gentle touch on her shoulder and his voice, warm and sweet and welcoming and oh god it was doing those things that excited her again, sang into her ear, "Hey Erin."

She could feel her face warm and cursed her tendency to blush easily even as her lips stretched on their own into her usual smile, "I think this is a record for you – six nights?"

"Found something to keep me coming back," was his response and she heard him take his seat.

Their arms were brushing. The heat was slowly rolling into her, coiling in the lower regions of her body. "Oh? And what's that?" Her heart was pounding in time with the bass downstairs, hard and loud. She was sure he could hear it.

"Good alcohol and good company. Not a bad sight either," he shot back.

She almost fainted. Oh lord, oh god, he was flirting with her. Flirting. With. Her.

On the inside, Erin was squealing, jumping up and down, dancing around like a hyper teenager and pumping her fists into the air in an unabashed display of pure joy and giddiness. On the outside, her lips curved into something resembling a smirk, "Yeah, I'm sure all that alcohol against the back wall is just breathtaking."

"It is. There's a nice sight a bit closer though." There was a burning sensation on her body – she felt as though someone were starring at her.

He was starring at her.

Oh god.

She just shook her head, "You are such a charmer, you know that?"

He laughed, and she reveled in it – it was such a rare sound, a rich noise that made her feel so very good, because she was the one who had caused it, "Good to know it's still there."

She pouted for a moment, "Oh come on, surely there's someone in your life you need to charm?"

"My boss," he said dryly without missing a beat.

Erin stuck her tongue out at him and nudged his shoulder with her own, "I meant a pretty girl. No way you're unattached."

There was a pause and she wanted to smack her head into the table. Not only did she sound way too nosey and interested, but she had broken their easy-going banter and she had probably just scared him off from flirting and damnit, she just had to go stick her foot in her mouth didn't she?

She opened her mouth to apologize, but he cut her off with a soft sigh, "No. There's no one."

He sounded so . . . closed. Like . . . like he didn't want or need someone.

Her heart ached for him; without thinking, she slid her arm around his shoulders in an awkward one armed hug and squeezed for a moment. "Then they're all losers and are missing out."

He didn't push her away, and she swore that she thought he had relaxed into her just a fraction. She wondered if she could permanently make this warm feeling last. It might help against the pain each night. Biting her lip indecisively, she finally decided that she could get away with it and rested her head on his shoulder, simply offering him a quiet hug.

He patted her hand a few moments later, "Nah, just busy. My work comes first."

She laughed and disengaged, glad to be back on even footing. "Workaholic."

"Pot calling the kettle black sweetheart."

"That's exactly why I can call you one – I recognize you as a similar work junkie," she said mock seriously, unable to keep a straight face despite her tone of voice.

"That's all?" He sounded like she had just told him his favorite pet had died.

"Ah, no! Of course not!" She said a little too quickly, defensively. His hand covered hers and his chuckles made her scowl, "Oh you!"

"Me," he said, his tone full of good humor.

"You're insufferable," she huffed, turning back to her drink.

"That I am," he agreed, still chuckling.

"Hmph," she took another sip of her drink. "And to think, I was going to ask you an important question tonight."

"You're already married."

"Stuff it," she stuck her tongue out again. "I'm being serious here."

She heard him shift and figured he was turning to give her his full attention. "Shoot."

"Literally?" she couldn't help but tease him, before her face got serious, "for the record, I never would. I don't think I could. But that's not my question. Uhm . . . can you . . . I'd like to know . . . I mean if you can't that's fine." She was babbling. _You can do this Erin! _"I-I . . . I just . . . we've known each other for a while now and . . ."

"Spit it out," he was definitely amused now, and she flushed.

"Ah, uhm, well . . . what's your name?" she blurted it out, screwing her eyes shut tight and tensing her body, waiting for him to laugh, or to tell her he couldn't, or to simply stay silent.

He was silent.

"I mean if you can't tell me that's fine cuz you didn't offer it up but I thought we've known each other for about nine months now and I'd like to know your name because just saying you doesn't really work in common conversation and-" she was stopped by his hand cupping her chin, his thumb pressed firmly against her lips.

Was it wrong to want to pull the digit into her mouth, swirl her tongue around it, rain kisses on the calloused pad against her mouth?

"My name is Clint," he murmured softly.

She inhaled sharply, shock coming through her swiftly. He had answered her. He had answered her and given her his name.

Clint. It fit him.

A happy smile grew across her face and he slowly took his hand away. He did so reluctantly, she imagined, before scolding herself for fantasizing about him again, but then oh she didn't care as giddiness stole through her body and swept away her thoughts for the moment and tasted his name on her tongue for the first time, "Clint."

She liked it.

"Yeah," he said softly. "That's me."

She couldn't hold it in and jumped up from her chair, almost banging into him with her enthusiasm as she wrapped both arms around him, hugging him for all of half a moment and feeling his firm body pressed against her own, tense in surprise, before she released him and sat back down, "Thank you. You didn't have to tell me."

"You asked," his tone was strained, but amused.

Erin picked up her drink after blindly groping for the glass for a second. She raised it towards him, her grin infectious in its delight, "Cheers?"

His glass clinked against hers and both downed their shots, continuing into their new threshold until Caroline arrived to pick her up. He walked her outside and then squeezed her shoulder in their customary good-bye, her hand squeezing his.

Their fingers threaded for a quick second before parting, him into the shadows of the alleyway and her into the limo, where she slipped on her wedding band and let the grim reality that was her life once more take precedence in her mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Awww, you guys are awesome! I had some reviewers answer my questions and they got cookies. I guess no one else wants one of my homemade chocolate chip cookies? More for me I suppose. Thank you as always to my reviewers, alerters, favoriters, etc etc etc.**

**Got to geek out with my older male cousins over Avengers the other day. Was very happy, had a great time.**

**The inspiration for this chapter was a combination of NSync and Backstreet Boys music. Shut up, I'm a nineties baby. Also, one single quote.**

"**All you need is 20 seconds of insane courage, and I promise you, something great will come of it." ~ Benjamin Mee, We Bought A Zoo**

**Yes folks, we've reach the actual MOVIE part of the plot. It's been a few chapters to get here but I needed to somewhat set up Clint's relationship with Erin before I could dive into this. Here is where we see the ripple effect – the other Avengers will be kind of in the background, but still important. The ripples of Erin touching their lives will be seen, and some of them may change. Others may not. I'm staring at you Tony.**

**Same as always, italics only equals thoughts, italics and underlines are for emphasis.**

**Disclaimer: All I own is Erin, her husband, her part of this plot, and Caroline. You want to use them? Fine, please ask me first. I DO NOT OWN AVENGERS OR JEFF DUNHAM. OKAY?**

* * *

Erin was staring. Even without her sight, even though she couldn't possibly see her best friend sitting on the plush white sofa across from her in the parlor of her home, she knew she was staring.

Probably gaping actually – yes, a quick inhale of breath through her mouth definitely indicated her jaw had fallen open. She felt a lot like a goldfish, but she felt a bit entitled to her shock. The bomb Caroline had dropped on her was nothing short of shock-worthy. It was nothing short of the stunned way she felt the first time she tried to walk after being blind and ended up swaying and falling onto her butt.

She closed her jaw, worked it for a moment, and then opened her mouth to say something, "I'm . . . I'm sorry, what?"

Erin heard Caroline fidget, the sound of leather shifting against a polyester blend fabric indicating the woman across from her was probably feeling awkward in the uniform her agency had deigned she wear. That was good. Erin felt an indignant vindictive feeling streak through her chest. The girl deserved to be uncomfortable! What the Hell had she been thinking? "I, uhm, do you really need me to repeat it? That would take time away from your decision . . ."

She stood and began to pace, back and forth over the comfy soft white carpeting beneath her bare feet. She had given herself the day off from work, citing the breakthrough two and a half months ago and the progress and retesting that had been done since that time as the reason for doing so. She had been curled up in a pair of black gauchos and a plain t-shirt that was also black (but it had a dragon on it; so said her maid) and prepared for a long day of music and catching up with the outside world in terms of news, when Caroline had walked into her room and asked to speak with her, using a commanding tone of voice Erin had never heard her speak in before.

"I need to talk to you. It's important."

Thankfully her husband had vanished after last night's beating. It hadn't been as extreme as the other times – he hadn't used an object this time, as he had favored for the past two weeks since she had come home in high spirits from learning Clint's name – but it had still been sore, particularly his kick to her ribs and the slaps to her raw cheeks, on her face and her ass. Still, she had been thrilled when he left, taking most of the staff of the house with him to the private summer home in upper California. He'd be far away from their home, and that was all that mattered.

Moreover, she was glad he wasn't home because learning this sort of information from her best friend was something she didn't think he'd handle well.

"Let's see if I've got this right," Erin said coolly, continuing her pacing and dragging her thoughts back to the present. "You work for the Strategic Homeland Intervention-"

"SHIELD," Caroline interrupted.

She sounded like she was enjoying a private joke, to which Erin could feel her face scowling. "Fine. SHIELD. You were stationed here for an assignment that you can't tell me about, because it's classified. Now, you need my help because something's gone wrong on a different classified assignment that takes precedence over your other one, am I following you so far?"

"Yes," Caroline responded.

"And let's not forget the fact that you lied to me, you got close to ME which leads me to deduce you either had to keep an eye on me and my work or you were trying to get close to my husband, sound right?" Erin's temper was beginning to show through, her sense of betrayal and hurt screaming through her.

"Erin—"

"Because I don't understand why the American—actually I do, I'm not gonna bother with that thought, but if you were trying to take my husband down, why not let me in on it?" Erin let her voice begin to rise. "I thought we were _best friends_, Caroline, I thought you could trust me with anything. God knows I've trusted you to keep quiet about the . . ." She waved her hands at the numerous bruises on her body, "And you couldn't trust me with this?"

"Erin—"

"Clearly not! God Caroline, what the hell were you thinking?"

"ERIN!" Erin stopped mid-tirade, her eyes narrowed in the approximate direction of the yell of her name. She heard the agent get up from the couch and stride toward her, a slim finger poking into her shoulder. "Get off your damn high horse! We're not five-years-old anymore, okay? I only kept silent on the damn beatings your getting each night because I've been reporting it back to my superiors who literally had to threaten me to stop me from going to the police. I can't tell you what I was investigating and I couldn't tell you about it then because this is my _damn job_ and I have responsibilities just like you do! I hated lying to you and I'm sorry that I did but would you _listen_ to what I'm saying, please?" Her voice was just as loud as Erin's had been and filled with snapped patience.

Erin flinched back, accepting her friend's words but unwilling to let it go, "Caroline, I get that. But couldn't you have given me some hint if I were doing something wrong?"

"I couldn't risk you acting any different than you normally would. But that isn't important Erin, what is important is that if you don't help me _now_ the world could be seriously fucked over."

Erin sighed, running her hands through her hair. "What can I possibly do? I'm a blind biochemist – not that that's stopped me before, but I don't even know what happened or why you need me."

Caroline tugged her over to the sofa, settling her down. "I have a video I can play." Erin heard her pull out a phone and hit play. She heard sounds of explosions and what sounded like steel sliding through flesh before a cultured voice murmured, "You have heart."

Then there were muffled voices before the video ended.

A bitter smile filled her face, "Because that was so informative."

"Shut up. The sounds you heard at the beginning were . . . let me back up. We found something a little while back, shortly after the incident down in New Mexico," Caroline explained. "It was a small cube that gave off a lot of radiation and energy; we called it the Tesserect. We were experimenting with this limitless energy and found that it could be used as a sort of clean energy alternative." She hesitated, and Erin wanted to press for what else her friend was hiding, but Caroline hurried on, "Anyways, it started spiking small peaks in its energy. It was only an occasional thing but it became a more frequent occurrence as the weeks went on. Last week, it went off the charts and from the energy backlash created a portal of sorts into another dimension. This guy, Loki, came out of it. He killed some of our men, trashed our tech, and somehow turned two of our guys into his personal butt monkeys."

Erin blinked, absorbing this information, "So . . . you need me to figure out how he did it?"

"He touched the tip of his staff to their chests; blue radiation that seems similar to the Tesserect's energy is absorbed into their bodies and suddenly they've switched sides," Caroline confirmed.

Erin sat in silence for a long moment, her fingers twitching as she mulled over this information. Her friend had taken a huge risk in revealing all of what she needed to do before she had made her decision; if it was classified information she could be in serious trouble if she was found out.

A counter-gesture to her earlier actions then.

Still, people needed her help. Caroline had come to _her_ and after her earlier rant, what kind of woman, what kind of person, would she be if she turned away her friend?

Life could screw with her whatever way it wanted. It could fuck her over six ways from Sunday and she wouldn't care. But it was messing with other people, and, the possibility dawned on her, it could end up fucking with Caroline.

Hell had no fury like Erin when her protective instincts were roused. An insane sort of courage filled her, a reckless and daring feeling that sent her soul soaring into the sky, as she turned the idea over and over again in her head. Would it be so bad to help her friend, to protect the girl in the only way she could, and to get away from the beatings for once?

To go to sleep without fear of a male hand bruising her flesh or kicking her ribs? To be able to work without the pressure of the awful man who made her life a living example of Hell?

She nodded once, firmly, "I'll do it. Let me get to my lab, I'll be able to start there."

Caroline firmly gripped her wrist before she could stand up, "Actually, I'm to take you to base. You've got half an hour to pack up a suitcase, our ride leaves then."

Erin's lips quirked in a half-smile, "Almost like you knew I'd say yes."

"Almost like I was worried you wouldn't," Caroline cheerfully returned, hurrying with her friend up the stairs to her room. They threw some clothes together into a small carry-on bag with necessary health and beauty aids (like a toothbrush) as well as her laptop and the encrypted disk with her recent work. When they were sure she was set, they left, locking the front door and getting into Caroline's small Prius.

"For the record, this isn't a car Caroline. It's a lunchbox."

"Shut up, Jeff."

They drove for a while – Erin wasn't sure where they were headed, but she knew they stopped on a tarmac; when they got out of the car, Erin holding securely onto her bag, the heat that rolled off the black concrete made Erin gag at the change from cool car interior to warm humid air. She was glad that Caroline had let her stay in the comfortable clothing she had been wearing, even though it magnified the warm rays of the sun and skyrocketed the temperature to almost unbearable. Caroline tugged her wrist and the two journeyed across the smooth runway, Erin moving along beside the SHIELD agent easily even at the hurried pace. She lead Erin up the ramp, Erin's shoes making clacking noises against the metal of the plane and over to a seat against the wall, where she helped the blind woman buckle herself in before taking her seat behind the pilot and co-pilot.

She placed the headset on and spoke into it, giving words Erin didn't understand, too focused was she on the feeling of dread in her stomach. She knew she was forgetting something but what was it? They had packed her necessary items, she was following her heart and her mind by taking this opportunity and she would be helping to get her friend's co-workers back from the wrong side . . . so what was she missing?

The plane lifted off from the runway smoothly, and Erin shrugged off the feeling when Caroline began to speak to her, telling her that they would be at the base in a few hours and to just relax until then. After all, how bad could it be?

Not long after they took off, Caroline engaged her in discussion, giving more details of the scene she had showed Erin back at the house. She gave details on what she had termed the "Hostile" looked like. She explained the limited information she could on the Tesserect.

All the while Erin's mind was racing; she took note that it gave off gamma radiation, and tried to see how something could so easily control another person. From the sounds of it, their free will, everything they were was re-routed, redirected, into subservience of this . . . man.

But how had he done it?

Erin was a scientist – there had to be an answer to this puzzle, this riddle, somewhere.

She just had to find it.

She estimated an hour had gone by at most when she heard Caroline turn around in her seat and speak into her headset, answering with a random code in response to the garbled message that came over her headset. The plane appeared to drop a bit, and Erin sighed quietly to herself. It was almost time.

She was giddy. She was calm. She was nervous – meeting new people had never been her forte – but she was relaxed. She wanted to bounce around, to dance as she hadn't in a long while, but her body remained still and serene, not even a twitch of the fingers or a bounce of her leg to give away her joyous feelings.

Erin began to hum softly as Caroline talked secret government agency code into the headset, confirming something with her superiors, and unbidden, a set of strong arms and a quiet baritone voice filled her senses; he was holding her close and matching her steps effortlessly, each movement dripping with sensuality and a hint of fire building in her veins as he pulled her in close to his very well muscled body, his strength apparent and so intoxicating.

He would never harm her, not the way her husband did. His strength was for protection, to keep her safe.

"What's that blush for, hmm?" Caroline's teasing voice broke her pleasant dancing daydreams apart, and Erin could feel her cheeks flush further crimson.

She scrambled and came up with no excuse, "Uhm, I, uhm . . ."

She was saved, however, by a bit of a bumpy touchdown, feeling her body shift in the seat and fling against the harness keeping her in place. After almost slamming her head into the rear of her seat (and it was a rather hard backing, so she thanked the stars that it hadn't happened), the plane rolled to halt. Her fingers followed the straps down to a series of buckles that met in the middle of her chest. Erin fumbled for a moment with them, trying to figure out how to undo the harness so she could leave, when Caroline's firm, knowing grip saved her by easily removing the buckles. They clanked against the seat as Erin slid them off her shoulders, and she grabbed her bag that had slid a few inches away from her feet during the landing.

Caroline held onto her wrist, leading her down the ramp and out onto what felt like another runway beneath her feet, once more into the warm sun. Erin paused for a moment, attempting to get her bearings. It was definitely loud and she could hear waves hungrily lapping on all sides of her. Hundreds of people, it sounded like, were milling about, shouting orders to each other; that combined with the waves and the sudden rush of wind roaring into her ears created a rather loud unappealing noise that could very quickly give her a headache. Her shoulder blade length hair, which had been left loose back at the mansion (literally letting her hair down), whipped wildly against her cheeks, stinging her eyes and just generally making her feel very messy.

"Caroline," Erin was proud that her voice only wavered slightly from the sudden sense that she was very much in over her head, "Where are we?"

"Somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean I think," Came the cheerful response, and Caroline tugged her over somewhere to her right. "Let's get you inside, it'll be hard to breathe in a moment."

"Why?" Erin wondered, following her friend willingly. "Is this a submarine or something?"

"Nope. It's a flying aircraft carrier."

"You're shitting me."

"No, I'm not."

"Holy . . ." Erin felt her nerves take off even more. She had thought she had done so much, overcoming her challenges to be one of the leading scientists in her field, but here, she was insignificant. She couldn't imagine the brains who had designed something like this.

What the Hell was she doing here again?

"Come on girl, let's go see the Director," Caroline said gently, tugging her along. They strode through corridors, Erin running her right hand along the right wall, trailing her fingertips in a way to "see" where she had been and where they were going. They meandered through many a hallway, twisting and turning until Caroline tapped the back of her wrist. "We're almost to the bridge Erin. You ready?"

"No," Erin whispered, before she squared her shoulders and tilted her head up. "But that's never stopped me before."

"Good girl," Caroline encouraged her friend before they took a last turn left. Erin's fingers met air after a few steps and she dropped her hand. She could heard more people talking and something that sounded suspiciously like Galaga, an old arcade game she had played before on one of the old consoles she had before she went blind. Caroline stopped her just shy of ten strides into the room, dropping her wrist and clearing her throat, "Director Fury?"

A soft swish of some sort of cloth, two heavy footsteps indicating someone turned around, and a powerful and authoritative male voice answered, "Yes?"

Erin shivered and shrank back a bit – he sounded very much like her husband and her body remembered the pain that came with that voice. As had been her defense for nine months and two weeks, however, a dry baritone invaded her thoughts, soothing away the pain and letting her not lose her grip on her nerves which increased exponentially when she felt that odd tingling as though someone were watching her.

"Sir, Agent Greyson reporting," Caroline's voice was respectful and calm, "This is Erin Griffin, she's the leading biochemist; her research was in the packet I sent Agent Coulson."

"I see," his voice betrayed nothing, like a blank slate. "Tell me, Miss Griffin, Agent Greyson has told you of our problem, has she not?"

"I-I think so sir," Erin murmured softly, her spine straightening. She took a deep breath to steady herself, "It's a bit of a riddle how this . . . Loki . . . is able to completely suppress the natural chemistry of the brain and re-write it in the span of a few seconds."

"Can you solve it?" He was a result-oriented man, Erin noted. She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Do you have a lab where I can get started?" She returned, her snarky humor coming out to play as she fought against her nerves.

She thought she heard an almost silent chuckle, before he said, "Agent Greyson, take Ms. Griffin to her lab – the one Dr. Banner is working in."

Erin perked up, her face the image of a child who was told Christmas had come early, before Caroline gripped her wrist again. She heard her friend give a salute and then lead her off, her feet feeling excited and she pressed her lips together to keep from babbling like an idiot. She succeeded for about five minutes before it burst out, "Oh my God, did he say Dr. Banner? _The_ Dr. Banner?"

Caroline giggled, her friend's enthusiasm far too catchy. "Yes, Erin. Yes he did."

"Oh my God, do you think he'd look over my work? I mean I used part of his hypotheses for my own I hope he won't mind holy crap I can't believe it!" Erin was walking with an extra bounce in her step before Caroline cleared her throat.

"Hun you might want to change first – I don't know if you're dressed for your lab work and . . . your bruises are showing," Caroline murmured quietly.

Erin's enthusiasm, which had been growing steadily since Director Fury had dropped Dr. Banner's name, plummeted as a cold sweat took over her body. Her bruises. She had forgotten to change so her bruises wouldn't be showing.

Oh lord, everyone had seen her bruises.

Enthusiasm and nerves converted to panic as Erin's brain went into overdrive, "How many people saw them, Caroline?"

"No one gave you a double take," Caroline murmured quietly, now leading Erin to the right. Something sounded like a door sliding open mechanically and she was led into a place where the door hissed closed behind her. "Director Fury already knows if he's read my reports I forwarded to Agent Coulson. You're fine. I just figured that if you were gonna meet your science idol you should look better."

Erin mentally blessed her friend a million times over, "Thank you."

"No problem. This is your room by the way. Try this and this," Caroline took Erin's bag from her hand and set it onto the bed, before she tossed her a long sleeved tight shirt and a pair of longer jeans. Erin kicked off her tennis shoes and slipped into her jeans, pulling her shoes on, and then tugging the top over her head. She fumbled for a moment, her hair down, until Caroline poked her with the handle of her hair brush. Fighting with the dark stands, Erin waged war on the tangles in her hair until the brush pulled through smoothly, and when her hair finally decided to cooperate, she pulled it into a low ponytail.

"I need my concealer," Erin said softly, "You know the drill . . ."

A click was hear and then a soft brush was feathered against her skin, followed by her friend's finger as she blended the makeup over her cheek and neck, stepping back after a few applications with a satisfactory sigh. Licking her lips, Erin spun around, presenting herself. "How do I look?"

"Like your usual scientist-y self," Caroline replied, once more taking hold of her wrist. "Do you need anything else?"

"My laptop and my disk," Erin responded, and the cool electronic device was pushed into her arm, the disk balanced on top of it. Once more content that her secret was safe, Erin inhaled and exhaled, steadying herself before she gave a sharp nod. "Okay. I'm ready."

With that, she was lead from her room.


	6. Chapter 6

**You guys are as awesome as always – thank you so much to all my alerters, favoriters, reviewers, and lurkers. Seriously, you guys make writing very rewarding, I'm very flattered you all like it so much.**

**This first part of the chapter was inspired by two songs – Hero and Monster, both by Skillet. Both excellent songs, both two very different applicable view points to one Doctor Bruce Banner. The second part of the chapter was inspired by another Skillet song – Whispers in the Dark. I've used that one before but it kinda fits now.**

**This chapter was SO MUCH FUN to write – you guys have no idea. I had SUCH fun writing about Clint's possession, I think it might be a kink of mine. I will explain all next chapter, I promise, but for now I won't spoil it. Let's see who can figure out where I'm going with this.**

**All notes are same as usual – italics, underline plus italics, blah blah blah.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers. If I did . . . well let's not even go there.**

* * *

He sighed out his nose and removed the glasses from his face, letting two fingers rub at the bridge of his nose as his eyes thankfully rolled shut. He had been straining them, going without sleep for two days, but he wanted to be off this pressurized flying deathtrap and far removed from this situation as fast as possible.

If that meant cutting a few nights of sleep to fine this damn cosmic cube of Fury's, fine. He would deal with it.

His shoulders slumped and he let his head hang for a moment, taking a very short few seconds break in between reading the feedback from the spectrometers all over the world, but he couldn't truly relax. He wasn't comfortable here – there was too much pressure, too much caution . . .

Too much nervousness. Too much fear.

They feared him. The lesser but still acknowledged second part of the reason he'd been cutting sleep was because his room wasn't a room at all. It was a cell, built and made with the idea of keeping the Other Guy in if necessary. He didn't know if it would work, but he sure as Hell didn't want to find out. Snorting slightly at himself, and hearing it echo in his mind from where the Other Guy bubbled close to the surface, he chided himself for even nourishing a slight hope that they DIDN'T want to keep him locked up, to control him and the Other Guy.

To kill him if they couldn't.

A disgusted sigh passed his lips and he put his glasses back on, rolling his neck slightly to relieve the tension there before he went back to the screen, analyzing the new data packets that had just popped up in the lower right hand corner. He was able to focus for a few moments until he heard footsteps approaching the lab. Two sets, both light, and a female voice babbling about something.

Bruce sighed, hoping it wasn't another two agents coming in to peak at him – he wasn't a damned zoo animal and it was getting quite a bit annoying to have his work interrupted. Still, he wasn't surprised when he heard the door slide open and admit two women to his workspace.

One was dressed in typical SHIELD gear, her light brown hair slightly frizzy but neatly maintained in a bun on the back of her head. She had bright brown eyes and a slightly rounded face, an amused expression painted over her lips as she glanced at him and nodded once in greeting before switching her attention to her companion. Bruce noted, with some interest, that she didn't seem to mind or care that he was in here.

That was to say nothing of her friend, who held a laptop and some sort of CD in her left arm, the right hand in front of her and trailing over the desk right near the door. It was empty, and the girl placed the laptop and CD down with utmost care, still talking excitedly at the SHIELD agent. She had thick dark brown hair that looked almost black, with streaks of darker red (either highlighted naturally or dyed in, he couldn't tell) mixed in. She was wearing jeans, sneakers, and a long-sleeved tight dark red t-shirt. She hadn't once glanced his way; was she ignoring him?

There was no reason these two should be in here, and Bruce felt a surge of annoyance when he realized neither was going to leave. Sighing in resignation, he turned once more to focus on what he was trying to do before he heard his name mid-ramble and once more turned his attention to the girl that was speaking.

"You know, Caroline, because the idea here is that the DNA controls what resistances and things we can do, but what if the hormones from the brain could help it along? Encode for different resistances?" She was speaking rather quickly, milky brown eyes sparkling. "Doctor Banner was on to something when he thought about gamma radiation, and I'm telling you, to meet him is so huge and-"

"Erin," the girl promptly quieted at her name. The agent, Caroline she had been called, turned to him and seeing that his attention was still on them, smiled warmly. Her eyes held no fear, only slight nerves and curiosity, before she spoke over her shoulder to the woman who had been speaking. "I can't introduce him to you if you're talking."

Erin's face flushed a rather becoming shade of pink, her jaw working and then speaking in a mortified whisper, "What?"

He felt a chuckle bubble up in his throat. This girl knew his work, clearly, but was lacking in spatial awareness. And she just seemed so . . . excited.

When was the last time he had seen that sort of passion towards anything?

"Doctor Bruce Banner," the agent smiled, "This is Ms. Erin Griffin. Erin, the illustrious Doctor Banner."

A squeak left her friend's lips, the milky brown eyes wide and hands clasped together in front of her. "Oh my god . . ."

He let his lips quirk into a half smile. "Pleasure, I'm sure."

She shivered, and her hand reached out to tug on her friend's suit, "Caroline can you . . .?"

Caroline rolled her eyes and gave a good-natured huff, "I suppose I could." The brunette led her scientist friend over to his table, where she placed Erin's hand onto it. "He's on the other side, good luck girl."

Erin stuck her tongue out at the other woman, before turning her face in his direction. Any questions he had as to the apparent oddities of this girl were answered when he saw her face closer and in a brighter light. His dark eyes took in the faintest of scars criss-crossing over her skin just underneath and around her eyes – the milky film should have tipped him off and he was rather unhappy he hadn't figured it out from the start.

Erin was blind.

He reached out with one hand and gently placed it onto the desk, palm up, waiting for her hesitantly probing fingers to find it. When they did, she squeaked again and her hand was around his in a flash, meeting him with a firm handshake. "It's an honor Doctor Banner, truly." Her face was lit up like a super nova, and he could feel the excitement and happiness bubbling underneath her barely controlled exterior. "Your work is so _amazing_."

He was a little uncomfortable with her enthusiasm, and the way her friend was grinning like an idiot behind Erin, but she didn't seem to be harmful to himself or the Other Guy. "You know my work?"

Erin nodded emphatically, pulling her hand back. "I work as a biochemist and your work was the basis for my thesis during my graduate program." Her hands moved as she talked – definitely an energetic woman. Still, he grew more curious, briefly forgetting the agent who was now settling herself in a chair in the corner of the lab, watching the two of them.

"You're a biochemist?" He took off his glasses and really studied her. "But you're . . . well . . ."

She made a face, "So? You turn into a big green guy with superhuman strength."

"Uh . . ." He blinked, not expecting her to be so blunt. "Yes, I suppose I do . . ."

"We all have our challenges to face – mine just happens to be more common than having super strength," she grinned at him. "It didn't stop me from graduating fifth in my class as an undergrad and sixth as a graduate. It hasn't stopped me from finally confirming my thesis and it definitely won't stop me from doing what I love."

She spoke so strongly, it was easy to see how hard she held to her beliefs. Moreover, she was waving a banner for it, screaming that she was confident she was right; clearly she was the kind of woman to take things in stride and not be bothered by said challenges that had been given to her.

He envied her for that ability.

"Not all of us can be so strong," He finally murmured quietly.

Erin's face seemed to darken slightly, her enthusiasm dampened, and she cocked her head to the side. Her scrutiny would have to be all mental, he noted, because her eyes weren't particularly focused on him, but he waited it out, the silence neither strained nor uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke, "Strength has nothing to do with it Doctor Banner." She fidgeted slightly, seemingly uncomfortable with this conversation, and he had to wonder how personal her words were.

"Hmm . . ." He made a non-comital noise and she seemed to relax, reading that he would let the topic go. "So what are you doing here Ms. Griffin? I assume it's not just to speak with me."

"Just Erin please," she said, making a face again. "And that would be my primary reason if it weren't for the fact that something went down they think I can help with."

"Finding the Tesserect?" He asked quietly. "I didn't think biochemistry had anything to do with gamma radiation."

"It doesn't," she said bluntly, finally resting her hip against the side of his desk and her face shifting into a pensive mask, her arms crossing over her smaller bust, "I'm not here to help find the Tesserect, I'm here to figure out how it can turn two guys from this side to the Dark One."

"I wasn't aware the Force was involved."

"That's how it feels right now."

"So how are you going to figure this out?" He wasn't sure how to point out that any visual clues were useless in her case – he had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate doubt from her idol.

She just shrugged her shoulders and smiled, "The way I usually do. Wing it until I get an idea."

"Seems like a dangerous way to practice something requiring logic and procedure," he noted softly, watching as a giggle trailed from her lips and her face melt into a warm smile.

"Only way I can – visual clues or anything else requiring eyesight is all but dead to me, unless I have someone working with me and I usually don't because I can't stand the morons who insist on jumping through every single hoop and doing things according to policy or procedure. Science needs that sure, but sometimes being creative and spontaneous can yield positive outcomes."

"Or you'll make things worse."

She clucked her tongue, "You can't think that way. If you do, you'll never go anywhere in life; you'll be too scared that you'll make things worse."

He winced. She had hit a little too close to home that time, and she seemed to sense that, because she stood and smiled at him, then turned to head back to the desk across the room. Her agent friend appeared to have vanished while they were chatting, which was fine with him. He wasn't sure how to handle the woman across from him, he didn't need anyone witness to that. Bruce glanced up at the camera in the corner and rolled his eyes. Well, anyone else.

A companionable silence reigned as the girl booted up her computer and placed the disk in its disk drive, muttering softly to herself as she attached what looked to be a Bluetooth earpiece to her ear and turned it on. He was able to return to analyzing what the spectrometers were picking up, and got through several sheets before he heard her clear her throat.

Erin suddenly looked nervous. "Doctor Banner, I know we just met and all but . . ." She hesitated and he briefly wondered if his first impressions of her had been incorrect, but those thoughts were assuaged when she continued in a rush, "I would be so honored if you would look over my work – I know it's not exactly physics or anything, but . . . It would mean a lot."

He couldn't help the small chuckle that made it past his lips. "I'll take a look later on tonight."

The answering smile somehow made her so much more beautiful than he had first thought and was filled with so many positive emotions he had never connected with himself. He glanced away, trying to get back into his work, and trying to ignore how that one brilliant smile stuck in his mind, igniting the tiniest speck of hope in his chest.

* * *

Clint still couldn't get over how free he felt. The responsibilities and weight he sometimes felt at the end of SHIELD missions were gone and all that was left was a desire to serve his King . . . and a desire to have something else.

He had been thinking about her, the day that Loki had opened his mind to the problems of his race. Her smile, her laugh, her scent, her her her. His mind wrapped itself tightly around the last time he had seen her; he had to leave for this mission two days after he had told her his name.

Some part of his mind warned him that he was getting too attached – she would become a weakness, and whatever he was feeling was not conducive to his lifestyle as an assassin but the sniper easily shoved it away. She didn't know how he felt and all she wanted from him was to be his friend.

If he hoarded her affectionate smiles, her banter, her mind, the sparkle in her sightless eyes, the fire of her spirit, her gentle touches for himself, and she would never know, why should he stop?

When he had seen Loki kill the other agents so effortlessly and he had risen to his feet to stop the man, he had been halted by Loki's scepter against his sternum.

"You have heart," he had said, and suddenly he was flying and falling and being crushed under some sort of weight but he was light as a feather, and suddenly . . . suddenly . . .

His eyes were opened. He _saw_ what Loki could see, accepted that Loki was being truthful in his words, and heard the most seductive music he ever had burn into his soul.

A part of him was screaming, railing against this intrusion, but then an image of Erin was flashed before his mind. She was smiling at him despite the thick bruises on her skin, blood flowing from a crack on her head, and a soft voice spoke to him, telling him that this was her fate at the hands of the monster she stayed with, for some unknown reason. If he would but accept Loki as king, let the man guide them as one race, she would be . . . she would . . .

The image was replaced by one that spoke to all parts of him; no bruises on her sweet skin, sightless eyes half open and lips slightly parted, wrapped in his arms, writhing under his ministrations, laughing with him, smiling at him, waiting for him when he came home, cuddling close to him as they watched a movie, teasing him, simply being with him, with him and no one else.

The imagery was so potent, so very real, he felt every fiber of his being cry out with want and painful desperate need, and it was her voice, soothing and gentle, that told him to give in, to be with her, and all he would need to do was accept the gift his King had given him.

With a cry, he was reborn.

Cold, crystalline eyes stared down at the iridium as he spoke absentmindedly with the professor who was building Loki's machine – his thoughts were focused on a particularly good dream he had the past night that involved her moaning his name as he made sweet tender love to her on the beach somewhere in Italy.

She'd told him she wanted to go there. He didn't have a problem with it.

Selvig was so enthused when speaking to King Loki that he had to hold back a snort, the scientist's cow-towing bringing him from his pleasant thoughts where she was wrapped firmly around his body as she slept, looking so very peaceful and beautiful, and to the present, where Loki was looking at him expectantly as he asked, "And what has it shown you, Agent Barton?"

He grinned, feeling a thrill rush through him, an adrenaline high that had only been matched in intensity by the orgasm he had last night, upon waking with a start just as his love had climaxed in his arms, her eyes bright with trust and affection for him. "My next target."

"What do you need?"

Shoving away the annoying tiny part of him that was screaming for him to stop, to think, he ignored his first response that was said in his mind and instead murmured, "A distraction." He pulled out his bow and snapped it open, the familiar lightweight weapon settling into his hand as he smiled wickedly, "And an eyeball."


	7. Chapter 7

**All of you lurkers, reviewers, favoriters, alerters, etc. are as per usual awesome. I love all of you guys – I cannot begin to explain how important this is to me, that you guys enjoy my work enough to be told when it's been updated. It's so . . . I can't even describe it. So thank you, very much, to all of you. Especially those who review – you give me stuff to work with, let me know I'm on the right track. I appreciate it.**

**You guys have heard about this purge thing going on around here lately. I don't know much about it. I have however had questions regarding it. SO HERE IT IS. I will NOT be moving this story. It will stay here. If it DOES get deleted, I will post it either at my Tumblr or move it to adultfanfiction dot net. But let's not worry about that right now.**

**This chapter was . . . a struggle. I had such a hard time writing it; I couldn't find inspiration and when I finally did figure out what I wanted to accomplish in this chapter, it would not flow. It was like molasses. I personally blame my muse and plot bunnies for wanting to jump ahead several chapters, but that's neither here nor there. This chapter was inspired by . . . well I don't have a specific song for it. It's just kinda here. Maybe that's why it was so hard to write it. Ah well.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers. I own Erin and things about Erin (i.e. her backstory), and I own Caroline Grayson and her things.**

* * *

She wanted to hit something. Or smack something. Or have good sex.

Any of the three sounded extremely appealing. Especially that last one – her mind inadvertently gave a mental mirage of a low baritone voice groaning in her ear as calloused pads brushed against her core, drawing a soft whimper from her lips. Feeling her cheeks heat up, she slammed her head onto the desk with a groan, caught between frustration at the problem at hand and the sudden hyperawareness of her senses on anything concerning her body.

"Sounds like you have a problem," came the wry sarcastic voice she had come to associate with one Doctor Bruce Banner.

It had been six days since she had started to work on this nearly impossible puzzle. She had remained optimistic at first – but slowly it was starting to wear on her patience, and Erin had to admit that she wasn't a very patient person in the first place. She just wasn't making any progress and felt like she was going around in circles. She was missing something, but what was it?

Erin left her head on the desk, letting her irritation seep into her voice. "What was your first clue?"

"The whimper followed by the head slamming onto the desk," he returned. She could hear him shift off his chair and walk over to her, his footsteps soft and unassuming, like him. Strong hands lifted her head and tilted it slightly, running gently over the area where she had hit the desk. She hissed – that hurt damnit! – but allowed him to look her over. "I wouldn't do that again. It looks like this may start bruising."

Erin sighed again, this time in appreciation as his fingers began to gently knead her temples. "It wouldn't be the first time I've had bruises." She slowly pulled away, smiling at him. "I'll be fine Bruce."

It still stunned her how many people on this Heli-whatever were afraid of this man. Bruce Banner was gentle, a man of science, and one who had an amazingly dry and witty sense of humor. He was sweet and warm and she could relate to him. Her problems of being blind, being a woman who was blind, and her husband's systematic emotional and physical abuse combined to give her a unique view on his position. This man, he didn't deserve to be feared and shunned.

Erin almost cried when her naturally affectionate nature had demanded she give him a hug good-night two nights ago. He had stiffened in response to her sudden intrusion of his personal space and cautiously asked her what the hell she thought she was doing. When she had answered she was hugging a friend good-night, the silence that reared its ugly head spoke volumes to her soul. And, and the hesitance in his frame, the tension in his muscles as he returned her embrace slowly and the quiet desire for some sort of caring she had felt within that single short hug had ripped at her heart.

She knew what it was to feel like no one cared. During her first year of marriage to Mike Richards, she rarely left their mansion and almost committed suicide. She would have, if not for Caroline entering her life again and reminding her that there was someone who cared for her. Oh, her parents loved her, yes, and she loved them dearly. However, they had also essentially forced her into this Hell. They wouldn't even think that Richards was capable of what he was doing to her. It was part of the reason she struck a conversation with that lonely soul who sat next to her in the bar, night after night. It was part of the reason that she was so determined to fight to stay who she was. She never wanted to feel that way again, never wanted to feel completely consumed by self-loathing and worthlessness. So she had done the hardest thing she could and took one step forward, out of the impenetrable web of abuse and weakness, and lifted her head toward the single light that bathed her skin in soft warmth and nurtured the hungry, crying little girl she was on the inside. Erin would remain, forever and a day, grateful to both Caroline and Clint for being in her life.

Caroline knew of her gratitude and reassured her it was what friends were for.

Despite things changing in a way she was afraid to name with Clint, she was certain he didn't know of her thankfulness. She needed to remedy that when she got back.

Now though, now she would be damned if she was going to stand by the wayside and watch her idol, a good man and one who deserved so much more, go down that path, even if by his own choice.

It had taken months for Clint to open up to her, and their relationship was still undefined. She missed him horribly and hoped he wouldn't mind her own absence. In spite of her lack of patience, Erin knew that if she could get the reticent mystery who sat next to her at the bar to be open with her, she could do the same with one Bruce Banner.

Erin returned to the present when he cleared his throat, "So, it's uh, it's lunchtime."

Erin grinned and stood, stretching her arms out and shaking her legs, willing to feel something more than that pins and needles sensation from her muscles being asleep. A grin bloomed over her face as she reached forward until her fingers brushed against his clothed chest. He stood just a few inches taller than herself, and her fingers ghosted to the right until they met his arm. Caroline had been conspicuously absent the past few days, which left it to Bruce to guide her everywhere. "Very well then. Escort me to the mess hall Doctor Banner?"

She heard his wry smile, "But of course, Doctor Griffin." He crooked his arm and placed her hand into his elbow.

Erin laughed. She heard the door to lab slide open as they approached it. "Not a doctor hun – I only just have my masters."

"You could be a doctor if you wanted," He teased, before becoming serious. "So why did you attack the table with your skull?" They had left the lab and he was leading her down the corridors now. Their footsteps tapped against the metal floor and Erin heard the whispers of clothing as other agents moved past them.

"It angered me. I had to punish it," she said with a completely straight face.

She felt his grave nod even as she heard his smirk in his voice. "Of course. The best way to deal with something is to beat it into submission."

"You think so too?"

"Actually I prefer to put it to rest peacefully, with as little aggression as possible," his indirect wording led down a path she wasn't ready to broach with him yet, and his bitter tone that colored the sentence had her scrambling to get back to their relaxed state.

"It was giving me an attitude. I had to get aggressive." She tried to sound like the one pompous know-it-all professor who had taught her Calculus back in college. Or tried to anyways.

It seemed to work, because she could hear the smile in his voice. "Why?"

"It's a female. I'm a female. We had a female fight."

"You can determine the sex of inanimate objects? Is that what they teach you in Biology these days?"

"Only the best can learn it, Doctor Banner."

"Naturally," they paused their banter as the door to the mess hall slid open. Her hand slid to cling to his shirt arm, and she became acutely aware of the sudden tension racing through his frame. Her thumb began to rub circles on the back of his arm, a soothing gesture that did not go unnoticed by the man who was receiving it. He struggled to keep his voice normal under the sounds of people talking and eating, a low buzzing sound that had intensified when they entered.

It was like this every day. Erin hated it. She made sure to put a scowl on her face as she swung her head about, trying to nail as many people as she could with it. This was her friend, damnit, and she wouldn't let those people saying nasty things get away with it.

Say what they would about the helpless little blind girl, but no one would slander Bruce Banner in her hearing and come out unscathed.

"So what was the problem?" He asked quietly, heading towards the line. He handed her a tray and she set it onto the three bars that slid past the food window. Slowly they moved behind people, and Erin took a moment from glaring to smile in his direction, one tinged with annoyance.

"I've hit a road block. Well, it's more like a concrete wall."

"Sounds painful."

Erin rubbed her forehead in annoyance as she reached forward, groping for the hot plate of food that was teasing her nose with the smell of green beans, macaroni and cheese, and grilled meat of some sort. A large warm hand caught her own and moved it the left, her fingers wrapping around the edge of the plate and placing it onto her tray. She scooted down the line and waited for the tell-tale clink of metal against plastic that signaled Bruce had his plate. "More like frustrating. I know I have these puzzle pieces but I can't make them fit. I'm missing something important, something that will help me put more of the picture together."

"I can take a look at what you have," Bruce offered, and she felt herself grinning again. Oh the chance to be mentored by him was so tantalizing, so tempting, but she shook her head, the grin still plastered on her lips.

"You've got your own work, mister," Erin returned. "But I'll run some things by you over lunch and we'll try to find out where we go from there alright?" She heard metal banging against metal as Bruce grabbed silverware for her, placing it onto her tray, and she knew accompanying her eatery would be a dessert of some kind as well as a bottle of water.

"Deal," he agreed and the two left the lunchroom, heading back towards the lab. It was a bit tricky for her to balance the full tray, but she managed, tightening her core muscles and using her martial arts training as well as her ballroom dance skills to remain still and light on her feet.

"I envy your ability to walk blindly down the hall with a full tray and nothing to guide you but the sounds you hear," Bruce mused to her, her ears picking up the woosh of the sliding lab door. She stepped inside and placed her tray on the table, smiling at him as she trailed her fingers across the smooth surface to the other side and placing her butt back in her chair.

"I had to learn," she shrugged. "Necessity of life and all those sorts of things. Also, animals hate me."

"Oh?" she heard him open his own bottle of water and take a drink, his silverware clinging against his plate.

"Yeah, so that eliminated a seeing-eye dog option," Erin murmured, her fingers finding the knife and fork, which she prodded her food with. That was soft, with no resistance, so that was the macaroni and cheese. This second food was soft as well, but still a bit firm, so that was the green beans. Which meant if she rotated her plate to the right, and poked again . . . yes, that was the meat. She picked up her knife and slowly cut off a piece, raising the fork hesitantly to her lips, her tongue darting out to taste the piece. Erin huffed in irritation – she should have guessed from the weight on the fork that the piece was too big. She cut it smaller and finally delivered the juicy piece into her mouth, humming a little in appreciation as her taste buds happily informed her it was chicken. It tasted wonderful, but was a bit bland, and she wished she had grabbed some salt.

Oh well.

They ate in silence, simply content to fill their stomachs, before Erin sighed and turned her face in the general direction she thought Bruce was in. "So. This problem I have."

"You've got many problems."

"Shush," she made a face at him. "The Tesserect. I don't know what I'm missing. I know it gives off gamma radiation and I know how that affects human cells. But how does it work? How is it possible to change a human's allegiance, to affect their free will? Clearly it magnifies the manipulation abilities Loki has . . . but how?" Erin rubbed at her eyes in aggravation.

"Maybe you're missing a visual clue," Bruce said, and she heard him place his silverware on his plate. "I can look over the video for you and see if I spot anything."

"That would be great," Erin sighed happily. As she pulled up the video for Bruce, her mind got to wandering.

She was missing so many pieces, and she didn't even know where to start looking. Hopefully he'd find something she couldn't see – because she had the oddest feeling that time was running out.


	8. Chapter 8

**I cannot get over how many people like this story. I seriously can't. You all are beautiful and amazing people and I adore you. A special amount of thanks goes to those who leave me reviews – your thoughts and criticisms and suggestions help me immensely.**

**My update schedule's gonna be a bit more hectic guys; I begin band camp this Sunday (college band camp yeay!) and won't really have any time to write until next weekend, and even then the semester begins a week from Monday. I'll do my best, but just understand updates will be far sparser than before. I would love to update for my birthday, this coming Tuesday, but this will have to do. It's my present to you guys. :D **

**The inspiration for this chapter was . . . actually, I didn't have a song for this. Not really anyways. I just kinda put my iTunes on shuffle and let it go nuts. **

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN THE AVENGERS. OR THE AVENGERS MOVIE. ANY DIALOGUE FROM THERE I DO NOT OWN. I DO NOT OWN ANY REFERENCES MADE WITHIN THIS CHAPTER EITHER THROUGH MOVIE DIALOGUE OR MY OWN. I do however, own Erin and her backstory and Caroline and her backstory. And this really awesome color guard riffle.**

* * *

Erin was so close.

She teetered on the edge, her breath coming in quickened bursts, her ears straining to hear the results of her handiwork pouring into the air around her. Her hands trembled with the excitement racing through her blood, curling into fists on the desk. Her jaw tightened, teeth clenched together, her sightless eyes boring into her computer screen as though it would make the results appear faster. She knew if Bruce could see her now there'd be some sarcastic comment flying her way but she could care less.

While waiting for her piece of junk laptop to hurry up (just kidding, she loved it, it was a good piece of machinery), Erin allowed her thoughts to drift to two days ago . . .

* * *

She had been stuck. Bruce had made a few suggestions that had led her to dead ends within this puzzle of the Tesserect and it had only made her more frustrated. So, she had gone back to her room alone, shortly after dinner, sitting on the bed and sighing quietly. The silence of her room, while perhaps soothing to others, did little but ring in her ears, giving her a nervous headache on top of her vanishing patience. Thus, Erin had found herself playing some salsa dance music (quietly) on her laptop and let herself do a bit of salsa-ing in her cramped quarters as a way to relax. She had to admit, that while it wasn't as fun without a willing partner, the moves had helped to soothe the frayed ends of her frustration and eased her mind a bit. Soon after, she had shut down her computer, pulled on her pjs, and crawled under the standard issue starched covers. Uncomfortable as usual under itchy and stiff sheets, she closed her eyes and let herself drift off, still dwelling on the problem despite feeling less angry that she wasn't able to solve this by now.

And then she had sat up in the middle of the night, at approximately one AM, her unseeing eyes alight with inspiration. She scrambled from her bed, grasping desperately for the slim laptop and her earpiece that went with it, and left her room. Her fingers trailed along the cool metal of the corridors, her bare feet and hurried steps pinging along the floor in her haste. The door of the lab had opened with their customary swoosh, and she had barely registered that she was greeted by a confused Doctor Bruce Banner before her butt was in her chair, her computer was plugged in, and her fingers were flying across the keys.

"I figured it out! I was trying to think of ways it could change the mind of a human. Like, a way to completely transform it into something different. What if it isn't CHANGING the mind per say, but simply influencing it in one direction?" She babbled aimlessly into the quiet lab. "Think about it Bruce – when you turn into The Other Guy, your mind doesn't stay exactly the same does it? But your brain doesn't change, you don't lose all your morals and thoughts and all that; it's just influenced by a different force. Loki, in mythology and apparently real life, was the God of Lies and Mischief and SHIELD's files on him tells us he's got a silver tongue – he's able to manipulate people right? Well, what if his powers are amplified by the Tesserect? What if the Tesserect isn't changing the human mind, but influencing it towards being more susceptible to Loki's powers? Like, like a drug! Or alcohol! You see? If the radiation of the Tesserect and whatever else it's made of is working like drugs or alcohol and influencing the way we think, opening us up to Loki's machinations, then it's not changing the brain. And, well, the heart contracts on electrical impulses that are directed by the brain doesn't it? So why not send the radiation up those pathways into the brain? It makes sense!"

"Erin," Bruce's voice was tired, strained, but she briefly entertained the notion that there might be a hopeful and impressed note within it as well, "If what you're saying . . . if it actually works that way . . ."

She paused a moment to reflect on how weary he sounded and idly wondered what her chances of forcing him to get some sleep was. After taking a few seconds to think it over, while putting her earpiece into her right ear, she decided she wouldn't win that argument. At least not yet; Erin's closest friends knew all too well that she was stubborn and Bruce would learn that too, once their friendship was stronger. He just . . . wasn't quite there yet.

"Then we have the mystery solved of why it works but not how to fix it, I know," Erin murmured in response, fingers flying over her keyboard. Based on her earlier babbling, she opened a program on her computer, the robotic voice in her earpiece informing her of what her mouse hovered over and which blanks were filled with what variables. She began to change each equation and each variable, putting the likelihood of gamma radiation influencing the brain into play as opposed to controlling the brain.

Erin shivered when the lab air brushed against her skin, wondering when it got so darn cold in here, but she brushed it off when the simulation began to run its course. She had been trying to program it for a few days and gotten nowhere, but with the new variables from her new point of view entered, Erin felt a surge of hope enter her weary soul. Satisfied, for now, that they would have their answers in a few hours, she leaned back and yawned, her eyelids feeling heavy with sleep.

"Go back to bed Erin," his voice sounded just as tired as she felt, and a heck of a lot closer than last time. Had inputting the new variables really taken up so much time? "You look exhausted."

"I-I'm not as tired as you sound," she stammered through a yawn, stretching and rising from her chair. Stumbling sleepily, her feet tangled themselves together, and she pitched forward on a crash collision course with the steel floor.

Or she would've been, if not for a steady pair of calloused hands catching her by the shoulders. "Easy," murmured the doctor's voice soothingly. "Don't fall over yourself trying to go back to bed."

"Ha ha," she muttered, righting herself and fighting against the urge to curl up like a contented kitten on the floor. She shook herself, trying to keep herself awake, before she held open her arms, "Good night Bruce."

There was a beat of hesitation before arms were cautiously wrapped around her. Distance remained, she noted, between their bodies, but it was a start. At least he had willing come to her hug this time. He smelled clean and warm and there was that familiar sense of aching loneliness, of a man who just really needed caring and affection. "Good night Erin," his voice was tense, a thread of anger present and mixed in with a fierce desire for . . . something. Still, he hugged her for a few seconds before he released her and let her stumble off to bed.

Progress all around it seemed. Giddy now, Erin made her way back through the corridors, sliding into her room and under her frumpled sheets. Once as comfortable as she was going to get, she settled her head into the surprisingly cushy pillow. As she drifted off, it occurred to her that she had rushed out of her room in nothing but her oversized t-shirt and sleep shorts. Before the thought could really take root in her mind, sleep claimed her, and she no longer thought, only dreamt.

* * *

Bruce sighed in relief as Erin disappeared out the door to stumble back to her room. Sitting himself down in his chair, he removed his glasses and pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, trying to force his thoughts into some semblance of order.

The chaos had always been present – a side effect of always being angry – but the chaos had multiplied exponentially until it nearly exploded when Erin had burst in a few hours earlier. Her sightless brown eyes had been alight with the discovery she had made and although it had lifted his spirits to see her so enthusiastic and zestful to pursue her train of thought, his mind had wandered upon the sight of her clothing. Or lack thereof.

Erin had always been careful to wear a perfect foundation of makeup and long sleeved shirts and pants – he had never pressed, because it wasn't his business, but even when it had been warm in the lab she had still arrived in the same outerwear. At certain times at night, she would flinch if he approached her – it was a subtle movement, one he was certain she didn't even know was happening, but it spoke volumes to him.

And tonight, she had rushed into their workspace, in barely-there shorts and an older t-shirt, showing healthy pale limbs covered in yellowing, fading bruises.

He was smart. Erin was far too graceful to randomly be tripping into things, or to be as klutzy as she would need to be in order to obtain those bruises. Then, there was the fact that what was probably a wedding ring hung on a chain around her neck instead of on her finger.

His anger rose just thinking about it now; this girl, this sweet scientist, was being abused.

Bruce inhaled deeply through his nose, resetting his control and accepting the anger, but not letting it cloud his mind. The Other Guy stirred from his sleep within Banner's mind but did not press for control; rather, he seemed to grumble for a moment before returning to his dormancy. Bruce dropped his hands and groped for his glasses. Once they were settled back on his nose, he turned his eyes to reading the data readouts from labs somewhere in the Middle East – however, though his eyes saw the information, his brain was too busy laboring over Erin's excited expressions and happy babble.

Sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, Bruce tried to redirect his thoughts, but they eagerly deviated from his own research to her slim frame. She wasn't so thin, as seemed to be the American trend these days, but she wasn't overweight – she had a nice curved figure and his thoughts supplied him with the image of his hands running up and down her bare sides, san bruises.

He shook his head violently. He would be out of here once his job of finding the Tesserect was done. He would leave, vanish from SHIELD and from all of this madness. He would return to helping people and he would . . . would . . .

Erin's sad face appeared in his mind's eye, once more replacing the data streams he should've been working on. She looked so forlorn; her eyes were downcast and filling with tears and her hands were twisting together in front of her, playing with the hem of a white long sleeved t-shirt he had seen her wear once. Her shoulders slumped and her lower lip pouted outward slightly, quivering ever so gently as she tried to fight tears.

His own shoulders slumped as he cursed quietly. How had he gotten so attached to this slip of a girl?

Their banter was fun, yes. He did enjoy her company and he was impressed with not only her work (which was flattering, since she had consulted his work in order to research her own) but also with her strength of will. She didn't let her blindness affect anything she did; she took on life with a smile and he admired that.

She was the first woman, nay, person, in a long time who approached him, touched him, just because she could. Even his patients in Calcutta had only touched him if absolutely necessary. But she hugged him willingly, gave him a smile, and took the time to talk to him.

She didn't care about the Other Guy, but he was certain that would change.

Still . . . she . . . he wanted . . . and . . . His thoughts whirled, a myriad of images and sensations and desires, centered around this one woman.

Bruce groaned quietly, finally admitting defeat. He was attached to this young woman and he had no idea what to do about it. Moreover, he really wanted to talk to her about those bruises he'd seen.

If she was supposed to be his friend, he needed to start things off on the right foot, and his friend needed his help.

* * *

Erin shook herself from her introspection of past events when her laptop beeped. The sound signaled that the program (which she had expected to finish yesterday and was sorely disappointed it hadn't) had finally at long last finished. The computerized voice in her ear piece read the last results computed, and her mind absorbed the information eagerly. She wanted to dance! The grin on her face spoke volumes to any who could see it, which at the moment equated to no one. Still, her grin died when the implications of the results hit her soundly in the face.

It was true that the Tesserect's energy was somehow amplifying Loki's ability to manipulate others, and that the gamma radiation was twisting the mind the way a drug or alcohol would. At least, if her simulation was correct. But then the problem remained how to fix it? And how was it working so well on the human mind if it was alien technology?

Still, before she could go any further, she had to share these results with Bruce and Caroline and the one Caroline had called Director Fury. This boded . . . not well, but not bad for their side. They had a small part of the big picture figured out. That was a step in the right direction – now to keep testing, keep hypothesizing, and come to a proven conclusion.

Erin was on her feet and halfway out the door in a heartbeat – her lips twisted into a strange smile. Science couldn't, she reflected as she wandered into the corridors and tried to find her way toward the bridge, prove anything to be true. It could prove something to be false, or it could apply evidence to support ideas, but never could it prove anything to be true.

It took about fifteen minutes, but she finally found the way to the bridge, hearing a cool British accented voice pierce the air. "It's an impressive cage. Not built I think, for me."

Director Fury's voice followed. "Built for something a lot stronger than you."

She could only surmise they weren't on the bridge – she highly doubted he'd have a random prisoner present at the proverbial center of their floating base. She recognized the British voice – that would be Loki, the man who had taken Selvig and another agent (they hadn't told her whom, so she assumed it was a classified thing) under his control. Which would be another reason to not have him on the bridge.

"Oh I've heard," his voice was amused, and she could understand why the ancient Norse myths called him Silvertongue. His voice was doing horrible things to her body; she wanted to smack herself because Erin was positive that it was illegal to be physically attracted to the bad guy. "The mindless beast . . . makes play he's still a man."

His words broke the spell his voice had woven around her. Erin snarled in silent rage, her fingers hitting the end of the corridor. Open air was beyond, meaning she'd reached the bridge on her own successfully. She didn't feel proud of her accomplishment, but rather was fuming angrily. How dare he insult her friend? What the Hell did he know about Bruce anyways?

Hell had no fury like Erin when she was provoked in defense of her friends.

"How desperate are you?" She could hear the sneer, the mocking in his voice. "That you call on such lost creatures to defend you?"

_Lost?_ Erin wondered. _What the Hell does he mean, lost?_

Director Fury's voice was calm, but she could hear the tension, the anger, the fury behind his voice (and she found irony his namesake was present, to be sure). "How _desperate_ am I?" He hissed. "You threaten my world with war, you steal a force you can't hope to control, you talk about peace and you kill 'cause it's fun." There was a beat of silence. "You have made me _very_ desperate. You might not be glad that you did."

It was fascinating, the non-verbal bi-play. She could hear the taunting smile in Loki's voice. "Oohhh, it burns you to have come so close. To have the Tesserect. To have power, _unlimited_ power. And . . . for what? A warm light for all mankind to share?" There was another beat of heavy silence. "And then to be reminded what _real_ power is . . ."

She frowned. Erin really didn't like what he was insinuating. _What was that saying? Absolute power corrupts absolutely? Unlimited power is pretty damn absolute . . ._

Was he trying to say SHIELD had been planning something with that absolute power? But what?

"Let me know if real power needs a magazine or something," Director Fury didn't sound shaken – in face he sounded downright confident.

Which was weird – because so had Loki.

This was why she stayed out of shit like this – she wasn't sure who to believe or what to think.

Erin barely paid attention to the two men who walked past her and onto the bridge, so wrapped up in her thoughts she was. Or at least, she didn't start paying attention until she heard an almost familiar, undeniably cocky voice announce, "That man is playing Galaga! Thought we wouldn't notice, but we did."

_So I DID hear Galaga!_ Erin crowed in her head. Before she could get too into her inner monologue, however, she heard Bruce speak up from what sounded like the other side of the room. His voice was still as weary sounding as two nights ago, but there seemed to be a new strength in it. "He'd have to heat the cube to 120 million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier."

"Unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect," returned the first male voice. Erin tried not to get distracted by her mind demanding that she knew the voice somehow. She'd figure it out after she told Bruce what she knew.

"If he could do that, he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet," Bruce mused.

"Finally!" The man cried in exuberance. "Someone who speaks English!"

Erin's lips twisted into a frown. She was only versed in the basics of physics and knew nothing about astrophysics or nuclear physics (or thermoastronuclear physics, for that matter) but she did understand chemistry, even if her field dealt with biological applications of the subject. And if what she was hearing was true . . .

She didn't want to speak up, especially since Director Fury wasn't here and there were plenty of people she didn't know present, but her voice made the decision for her, "So what you're saying is we essentially have no way of knowing where this guy is planning to make his move from?"

There was a pause, and she could feel every set of eyes in the room turn on to her still form. Erin grit her teeth and stood a bit straighter, lifting her chin into the natural defiant set she gained when greeting new people who would judge her. "Because honestly, I'd think about the big cities of the world – no use trying for world domination from Nowhere, Kansas."

No one got her reference, but then again, she wasn't surprised. This didn't seem like a group of people who would watch cartoons on their off days.

"Who are you?" This was the man with the somewhat familiar voice. Why could she not recall who he was? It was really starting to bug her.

"Erin," Bruce's voice was amused and surprised. "How did you get here from the lab?"

"I took on the mighty quest to defeat the platinum dragon god Bahamut and my reward for defeating him was a magical ride to this spot," Erin replied breezily, feeling more than a little nervous and testy with so many eyes on her.

Seriously, it was starting to creep her out.

"So you walked?" Bruce's voice shifted to complete amusement.

"Duh," she responded, her frown gone and replaced by a smile at their banter.

"That's Erin Griffin," a female voice broke in. It was cool, calm, collected, and a thousand other adjectives that already had Erin's teeth grinding. She hated people like that; the ones who hid their emotions. Mike did that all the time – even when he was enjoying her pain and beating her senseless into their bedroom carpet. "She's helping us figure out how the Tesserect turned one of ours and Selvig into Loki's personal monkeys."

"Monkeys? I do not understand-" a large, booming voice heavy with an accent began, only to be cut off by a different excited male voice.

"I do!" This guy was clearly glad to get the reference; almost childishly so. "I understood that reference."

Erin was beyond confused, and opened her mouth to say so, when she was interrupted by a deep male voice that belonged to Director Fury, "Which is why I'm wondering what she's doing here."

"I was looking for Doctor Banner," Erin finally snapped. She could feel people staring at her, she was confused, and for god's sake she had news that she had to share and for the life of her she could not remember why she knew the first man's voice! "My simulation finished running and I think I've figured out why the Tesserect works the way it does."

"You have puzzled out the workings of the Tesserect?" The booming male voice sounded impressed.

Erin flushed under the voice, and gave a half-hearted shrug. "Well, I've figured it out in human-esque terms anyways."

"And?" Director Fury sounded fairly impatient, a demand and command present within that one word.

She felt the most random urge to continue drawing out their conversation, just to piss him off more, but decided against doing so. "Drugs and alcohol."

"What?" This was the man who had been excited to get the Wizard of Oz reference. "What do drugs and alcohol-"

"So your hypothesis was correct then," Bruce murmured. She heard footsteps cross the metal floor to where she stood; these were familiar. Erin had heard him pace many times in the lab. "Your simulations confirmed it?"

"Theoretically. I'd need to actually get a sample of the Tesserect in order to do any actual experimentation and testing but . . . yes," Erin confirmed.

"Do you mind sharing with the rest of the class?" Director Fury broke in again. Erin bit back her first few responses to his question, and instead sighed slowly out her nose.

"The Tesserect, as far as I can find, works the same way drugs and alcohol does when exposed to the human mind. They don't actually turn us into different people, they just influence our thoughts and choices. Given that this is alien tech and I had no samples to go off of, I'm guessing now that Loki's ability to manipulate people is amplified to such a point by the Tesserect that it works like a constant drug in the system," Erin explained quietly. "I could tell you more if I had more to work with but for now, the simulation seems to support me."

"You could start with that stick of Loki's," suggested the Man Who Didn't Get References, "It may be magical, but it worked an awful lot like a Hydra weapon."

"A Hydra . . .?" Erin's mind raced furiously. "You mean like the Greek monster?"

"No, Erin," Bruce murmured, and she swore she heard him pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"You don't even fill in your scientist pals on important information like that?" The Man Who Seemed Familiar was either amused or just one of those guys who liked to pick at people for fun.

She could handle that.

"Doctor Griffin doesn't need to know any of that," Fury said dismissively. "Loki's scepter is powered by the Tesserect – is that enough of a sample for you?"

Erin once more bit back her first six responses before she nodded tightly. "Yes."

"Good. It'll be in your lab. Stark, Banner, get to work on finding the cube. The rest of you, prepare for whatever may be found at that site," Fury gave his orders out, a commanding note that would not let any disobey him.

Simultaneously, Erin put the famous last name with the familiar voice. When Bruce took her hand, presumably to lead her back to the lab, she couldn't stop the wide grin that crossed her lips and the peal of delighted laughter that crossed her lips.

"Something funny there Doc?" Tony Stark asked dryly, following right behind them.

Erin laughed. "Now I know why you seemed familiar – you're Tony Stark!"


	9. Chapter 9

**Normally I talk here about how much I love you guys. And I do. I thank you for reading and favoriting and to those special few who take the time to review my story and tell me what works and what doesn't or ask questions. That's what's awesome.**

**What is NOT awesome is the flame I received for this. Now, everyone is entitled to their opinion. It's fine if you don't like this story, or my characterization, or whatever. But that review was not meant to be constructive or to help me become a better writer in any way. However, as you have addressed a good point, I shall answer it.**

**Bruce Banner is a good man, and an interesting character. He imposes a social and physical isolation upon himself – or at least, my Bruce does. In this version of Avengers, he denies himself one of the most important needs of a human being – acceptance, physical touch, and love. All are vital components to a human life. So here comes Erin, someone who is affectionate and loyal and just there and determined to be his friend, and Bruce is suddenly thrust into a position where he is accepted, in spite of the Hulk, where he is being touched and hugged and a series of gestures that convey friendship and a loving acceptance, and so when someone hasn't had things like this for so long, feelings can either grow or be misinterpreted. Which one will it be? Well, that's part of the mystery.**

**That being said, I also deleted that review. I didn't wish to offend any readers I do have and I had no wish to be reminded of language that is less than encouraging to me to continue with this story.**

**Now then, this chapter was fun to write. Difficult, fun, heart wrenching and amusing as hell to write.**

**The inspiration for this chapter was "Man of La Mancha" by Linda Eder. Seriously. I played it through this whole written process and it weirdly fit in that awkward background kind of music thing. Weird I know. Just go with it.**

**Dedication: This particular chapter was done in dedication to 88dragon06, who has been with me since pretty much the beginning and has reviewed every chapter as well as been encouraging and a delight to have as a reviewer. YOU. ROCK. SERIOUSLY.**

**Disclaimer: I ONLY OWN ERIN AND CAROLINE. I do not own the Avengers. But oh, if I did . . .**

* * *

"Wanna dance?"

"AH!" Erin jumped in her seat, fumbling along the edge of the desk desperately as she tried to recover from the surprise of Tony's voice in her ear. "TONY!"

The past few hours since meeting Tony on the bridge had been dedicated to Bruce quietly introducing the billionaire to the lab where they would all be working together. Two soft baritone voices had mingled pleasantly in the air, a relaxing background hum that encouraged her to get back to her own work. SHIELD had not yet given them Loki's staff but Erin wasn't too concerned – if Director Fury wanted his results, he would get it to her. The blind scientist had immediately commenced running more simulations on her laptop and allowed her thoughts and ideas to roam as she did so. Would the staff actually yield important information? Could she somehow isolate the radiation and the energy of the Tesserect and apply it to brain tissue? Would it be possible to find effects of the otherworldly power on a body without needing a live human volunteer? She had been so buried in her work that she hadn't heard Tony approach her; thus the surprise when his voice slithered into her ear and brought her crashing back to Earth.

Fuming now that her surprise had vanished, Erin's sightless eyes narrowed, "What the Hell? Are you already done with locating the Tesserect?"

"No," Tony's voice was amused and she could hear Bruce's nearly silent dry chuckles across the lab. "I just wanted to see if you could actually dance. JARVIS dug up your file and I gotta tell you, I'm not convinced."

Erin's lips pulled into a frown. She liked Tony. She liked him a lot. Hell, she had a bit of a crush on him – his voice's sensual appeal was not lost on her. The fact that he had dug into her background set her on edge, and what was worse, he was calling her out on one of her accomplishments. Dancing was one of the things, aside from her Akkido martial arts, that she was proud of. Hard work had allowed her to function normally in spite of a lack of sight, and her ballroom dancing had taught her how to be graceful and aware of her body at all times. To have Tony, a man she genuinely liked and respected despite only knowing him for a few hours, question one of the things she was proud of hurt. Not only that, it made her angry. No one would belittle her. Mike was a different case entirely, for what he held over her head, but Tony had nothing on her.

She clenched her jaw as she felt rage begin to burn within her chest, "I don't think that's a smart idea, Tony. We need to be working. And this is a science laboratory, thank you very much." She wasn't gentle with the rebuke; her words were edged with shards of ice meant to pierce the giant ego he had.

Tony, however, seemed ignorant of her enraged countenance. "Come on," his large, calloused hand covered hers. His voice coaxed her away from the anger she felt and more towards her natural inclination to accept any challenge that crossed her path, "It's just one dance, and no one's even here to see you screw up. Unless . . . you're afraid?" There was a cocky smirk in his voice, just enough of a lit in his voice to make it clear he was daring her to accept.

Oh that did it.

Erin huffed, pushing her chair away as she stood and gripped his hand in a firm grip. "I can dance very well Tony, and I will prove it to you."

There was a momentary beat of silence before she swore she could feel the smug attitude rolling off him in waves. There was a certain amused intrigue from the other end of the lab as well – it didn't take Erin's brain long to figure out the two had teamed up on her just to get her to agree to this. Cursing under her breath at her inability to turn away from challenges, Erin slapped her free hand to her forehead and slowly dragged it down her face. "I was just tricked into dancing with you, wasn't I?"

"You bet," Tony said cheerfully. "Just don't step on my toes Little Girl."

Erin felt her face change to an indignant expression even as her cheeks burned brilliant crimson with irritation and embarrassment at the endearment, "I'm not little!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

"You're acting like it."

Erin stomped her right foot onto the metal floor, trying to ignore Bruce's not-so-quiet chortles at their banter. "Damnit Tony!"

"Cool your jets, Little Girl," Tony murmured, his strong arms suddenly sweeping up her sides. She wasn't prepared for him to pull her forward, settling his right arm along her waist and changing the way their left hands interlocked. "I just want to dance okay?"

Erin scowled, but nodded her head. "One dance. What did you have in mind?"

"JARVIS, hit track eight on the playlist I pulled up earlier," Tony muttered. A trumpet sounded and within a second, Erin recognized the tune. The three-four metered beat excited her body, and she could already feel her muscles tensing in preparation for the dance.

"Can you keep up, Mr. Stark?" Erin cooed, a sly smile slipping onto her lips as she took the appropriate position to begin a Viennese Waltz.

"I think you'll find I'm more than capable," he shot back, his arms like steel bands around her body.

They began to move in their space. It was cramped and limited and not at all what she would have chosen for such a flashy and showy waltz, but Erin sucked up her disgruntled emotions and focused on the music and dance. Tony deserved the cocky attitude, she supposed. His steps were sure and strong, and when she began to flick little complex maneuvers into her part, he matched her easily. Never once did he leave her hanging, even spinning her and allowing her to kick and extend. The music continued, rising and building around them and Erin found herself laughing breathlessly, enjoying the rush she got from dancing and just the fact that she had a good partner. It was fun and exciting and just a general good time.

Had she been wearing a normal dress, the skirt would have twirled and spun and flowed through the air, mimicking her graceful approach to a showy series of steps. As the music beat on, Tony's movements and her own became far grander; far more advanced. Erin felt a huge smile crack her face as she forced her body to move in maneuvers it hadn't performed in years; some moves she hadn't used since she had learned them so long ago.

Unbidden, her mind pulled her into a fantasy – no longer was it Tony who held her so securely and surely, but another man entirely. His clean sunshine kissed wind scent teased her nose and her hands were clasped in his. A soothing baritone voice whispered something to her, but she couldn't make it out. The music floating through the air masked his words, but his body was strong and protected her even here. Moreover, their movements had slowly become sensual, a dance meant to entice and intrigue, and oh he dipped her, his rough lips pressing just so gently to her neck.

She was glad she was exerting so much energy - her blush was covered by the flush of physical exercise, and she forced her mind back to the present. The last thing she wanted was to stumble and fall, especially after the way Tony had thrown down the verbal gauntlet earlier.

All too soon, the music rose to its final crescendo, and she hit her last pose with Tony. His hands rested on her waist, his body pressed behind her. His breaths puffed against her dark locks, chest heaving with the expenditure of energy. "Not bad, Little Girl. I guess you can dance after all," his voice was breathless, still trying to catch his second wind.

She gave him a smug smile, dropping her arms and stepping away from him. "Don't question my abilities Tony," she panted in return. "And I won't have to show you up in front of Bruce and the other people on this flying whatever it is."

Tony snorted, "Don't get cocky. I said you weren't bad, not that you were amazing."

"I thought she was," Bruce's voice cut in softly, shyly.

Erin grinned in the direction she had heard his voice. "Thanks Bruce. Tony was okay too right?"

"I was amazing," Tony sniffed, shoving gently at her shoulder. Bruce's soft chortles seeped into the air again and Erin couldn't help but revel in the relaxed and companionable atmosphere.

"Keep telling yourself that," Erin replied airily. "Now then, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my work."

"Sure, sure," Tony said easily. "Just one question."

"Okay?" Erin crossed her arms. "What, you want to know if I can actually do Akkido as well?"

"No, I trust that one," Tony shot back. "I just want to know how long your husband has been abusing you and why you haven't done anything about it?"

Erin's smile slipped off her face faster than ice melting in the desert. "W-what?"

"Abuse. You. Your husband. You know, beating you and causing bruises and probably the occasional inner bleeding or inner damage from time to time," Tony said casually. "How long has it been going on?"

"I-I . . ." Erin's mind was blank, the shock from the direction of the conversation completely obliterating any thought. She could feel panic welling up inside her. How had they known? She was so careful – she wore her makeup, her long t-shirts and pants and was careful to keep her hair down to hide the bruising on her neck. Though she hadn't seen much if any of her best friend over the past few days, Caroline always stopped by in the morning to help her dress and prepare her for leaving her room.

She knew the girl was tight lipped, and she hadn't told anyone but her superiors (who appeared to be Director Fury) about what Mike did to her each night. So how . . . how did they know?

And why were they questioning her about this?

Her mouth worked a few more seconds before the panic began to fully set in. She didn't want to talk about this, didn't want to think about it or confront her demons. Not yet. She hadn't finished helping Bruce through his problems and she didn't know Tony that well.

She couldn't do this.

Erin stumbled back, her normally graceful movements marred by terror and confusion. "I-I don't-"

"Yes you do Erin," Bruce's voice, still soft, came from directly behind her. "You flinch away from me at a specific time each night. I saw your bruises two days ago when you raced in here with your breakthrough. You are far too graceful to have that many bruises; you aren't that uncoordinated even being blind."

"Moreover, I know you're loaded. Your blindness could be cured, very easily, and you have the money to do it. But you never did. And then there are the reports your best friend sent to Coulson and Fury," Tony added, the list of evidence growing longer. "So why is it that you, a smart woman, haven't done anything about it?"

She felt dizzy. She had to get away from this. The questions and evidence unlocked that deeply buried sense of depression and shame and no please stop I'll do anything. The rush of strong negative emotions left her adrift in a storming ocean that threatened to drown her completely. She didn't want to face this. She was stronger than this. The room heated and closed in on her – she felt like she was being buried alive in this room.

Erin despised cowardice, but she couldn't help her next actions. She fled away from the two men, out the door of the lab and let her steps carry her far away from that isolated space.


	10. Chapter 10

**YOU ALL. YOU WONDERFUL PEOPLE. YOU ARE ALL AWESOME. You've reviewed and been patient and I cannot tell you enough how grateful I am to all of you.**

**I hope everyone likes this chapter – it's a fun one. **

**Now then, two notes. Firstly, musical inspiration was from September by Daughtry (Caroline reminiscing and to an extent the confrontation scene with Loki), You Got a Friend in Me by Randy Newman (Captain and Erin) and the Avengers theme for the rest of it.**

**Secondly, part of this is beta'd and part isn't. My beta contacted me after I sent her the second draft (with some of the revisions of the first done) and said she had a crap ton of stuff on her hands. Thus, some parts may be rough. I apologize for that, and when she has time, she can correct it and I will upload the beta'd version. Until then, please excuse the minor errors that may or may not be present.**

**Disclaimer: I still don't own the Avengers, despite watching the movie obsessively since I got it for Christmas (and no I don't have a problem, I have an obsession).**

* * *

She hadn't been able to see him.

Carrying the staff carefully away from the area where it had been examined every which way (presumably to make sure it wasn't booby trapped, but Caroline highly doubted it took three days to ensure the staff was safe), Agent Caroline Greyson was trapped in a different sort of magic. His familiar scent, which was still embedded in the handle, ensnared her senses even as the odd combination of the Tesserect's power mixed with Loki's washed over her skin.

When she had discovered Loki in that video – saw his face, heard his voice – her world shattered. It felt like a millennia since she last had contact with him. As a child, Caroline had not been the most well behaved. Rather, she had displayed a fondness for mischief and fun that made it difficult to relate to other children; her level of impishness was often only matched by the loneliness she felt much of the time. Thus, she had prayed for a friend, one who would be like her, and the next night Loki had appeared. The then godling had appeared around her age, though he was undoubtedly much older. Despite a rough start between them, they had formed a solid friendship, leading to a joyous reign of mischief for the ten year old Caroline. Loki had made it a habit to appear to her at least once a week and to take the time to tell her about his life, his desires, his dreams and his world. She learned much about magic from him, though she did not have the aptitude for it and couldn't do even the simplest of tricks. Regardless, her childhood was filled with fond and magical memories whenever Loki was involved.

The rush of nostalgia and memories and fond feelings nearly took her off balance – she had been growing to care deeply for her Asgardian friend when one day without a warning he had simply stopped coming. Loki vanished from her life. Her pictures of him had gone missing and sense of magic or magic residue simply disappeared. She had been sixteen at the time; unable to understand why he had suddenly left.

It hurt after all these years. She was deliriously happy he was alive, but the other part of her demanded to know where he had been all these years, and what she had done wrong that her most treasured friend stopped appearing.

Coincidentally, it was around that time that she and Erin had grown even closer. The two had hung out during school hours and sat together during lunch, but they were not true friends until shortly before Loki had left. Sometimes, in her darker moments, Caroline would revile her friend, wondering if her then blossoming friendship with Erin was the reason Loki no longer visited her. But those moments would be chased away by peering into sightless brown eyes, whose depths warmed and sparkled and soothed the hurt that whispered maybe, just maybe, she wasn't good enough to be Loki's friend.

Her thoughts were dizzying as they spiraled around and around in the span of a few short moments – all from his scent, his voice, his power that sang to her from the staff. For a brief second, Caroline contemplated returning it to him, just to see him and to ask if he still even remembered the mortal he had befriended years ago . . . but she shook her head at the silly notion. Loki sought to control her home and even with their old friendship, her duty to that home and the people within it was stronger than a childhood bridge . . . one that quite possibly no longer existed. Her mind firmly in the right place, she ignored the pleasant rush she felt every time the scepter pulsed in her hands, and her feet took her straight to the lab where Stark, Banner and Erin were working.

* * *

Steve Rogers considered himself a gentleman. To this end, he didn't like bullies, he didn't like people who made others cry for no reason, and above all, he hated seeing a dame in tears. This, incidentally, was one of his largest issues with one Anthony Stark.

He had been mulling over the latest session he had with his therapist, Doctor Samantha Winters, in the onboard gym when the blind scientist who was attempting to puzzle out the workings of the Tesserect stumbled into the room. He paused his workout (currently it was pushups, crunches, pull-ups, and other sorts of strengthening exercises) to watch her run a blind hand along the wall. Her expression was set in one of panic and distress, marked undeniably by the tears that slid down her face. Foundation mixed with the salty liquid to slowly reveal aged bruises, and as she collapsed into a corner, the smudges along her face appeared to give her a far more fragile appearance.

Steve frowned in concern and stood up slowly. She seemed so small like this. Nothing like the determined fire cracker he had first assumed she was. He approached quietly, but she heard his footsteps, wiping at her face hastily and sitting up.

"Wh-who's there?" Her voice cracked, distress obvious in its tone.

"I'm Captain Rogers, M'am," he said quietly, trying to soothe her as he knelt in front of her. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She sniffed and wiped at her face again. "It's okay. I thought this place was empty. I'll leave you alone."

"No, no," he replied, "I was just finishing my workout. There was no disturbance M'am." The frown still marred his features as he stared at her. He hadn't seen the bruises before, and though he didn't want to think anything about Doctor Banner when the man seemed competent, able and solid, he had to wonder where they came from. "But, uh, are you okay?"

She paused, seemingly weighing his words before she responded. "I . . . I need to learn not to be so sensitive that's all."

Steve cocked his head to the side. "Pardon me, M'am, but you don't seem like the kind of person who cries because someone says something that isn't nice."

She gave a sad giggle, "I just . . . I'm dealing with some things from my past, or I've been trying to not let it affect me, and it was brought up rather abruptly. I should've been prepared for it, someone was bound to find out, but I was hoping to not deal with them right now."

He shifted a little closer and placed a gentle, large hand on her leg. She flinched backwards, but he didn't move his hand. He had never been very good with dames, but this particular scientist seemed more like a lost little girl than a woman. He felt a drive to comfort her, like an older brother would do for a sister. The only problem was that he was at a loss as to how to comfort her. He riffled through ideas furiously as she continued to wipe at her eyes, sobs and hysteria gone, but a deep sense of shame and sadness remaining. Finally, Steve hit on a solid idea – Doctor Winters (or Samantha as he had repetitively been told to call her) had comforted him with gentle words that were true, but said in such a way that it didn't hurt more to hear them. He focused, trying to recall the words she had used, before he gently patted her knee.

"Sometimes we can't run from our problems," he told her softly. "Especially when they are only obstacles keeping us from our goals or from living our lives."

She shook her head. "I'm not running . . . I'm just trying to pick the battleground Captain. This isn't the time or place, especially when we've got work to do."

"We don't always get to pick where we fight," he said, his mind being transported back to numerous fights and ambushes. "When the fight happens, you have to plant your feet and fire back, or else you'll either die or you'll let others die for you as you run."

Doctor Griffin was quiet for a long time, considering his words, before she slowly nodded. "I see your point Captain."

He smiled at her, even though she couldn't see it. He could already see her spirit returning, her eyes livening up to what they had been when she had spoken to them on the bridge. He was glad to see his words had done something for her, even if he hadn't known what he was doing. Steve made a mental note to thank Doctor Wint . . . Samantha the next time he saw her, because she had been the one to help here.

"Thank you Captain," she said, a small smile crossing her lips. "I think I should go back now. There's still a lot of work to be done."

He admired her resolve, and her dedication to her work. "Do you need help getting back?"

Her cheeks flushed a pale rose color and she nodded. "Erm, yeah . . . don't exactly remember how I got here."

He helped her up placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. "C'mon then, I'll see you back."

She grinned at him, and he smiled in response. This gal was definitely one of the more interesting dames he had met in his life – he was curious to see if she could figure this mystery out and set them on the right path to defeating Loki.

"By the way, who made you cry like that? I didn't think Banner was capable of that kind of cruelty," he asked nonchalantly as they strolled out the door and down the hallway.

She sighed out her nose, "Tony and Bruce were just asking some uncomfortable questions that . . . I just had to get out of there."

Steve's lips twisted into a grim expression. Doctor Griffin must have sensed his tension because she remained silent after that, although her other hand came up to his arm and began rubbing his arm in a way that reminded him of a mother and her child. Try as she might though, the anger bubbling in his chest would not be calmed. Stark had just crossed the last line, and Steve was NOT going to let his blatant abuse of the rules and others go. Soldiers in a war didn't have the luxury of destroying their teammates and flaunting the procedures meant to bring them all home safely.

It was time he understood that.

* * *

Erin was a scientist. She well understood the biological workings of the human body. Emotions, however, were one area she did not excel in. This was why the strong sense of flight and fear that settled into her chest was not being reasoned away, because she wasn't even sure how to fight it.

SHIELD was planning to use the Tesserect to make weapons of mass destruction. Okay, she could handle that. Captain Rogers and Tony didn't get along. Okay, she could handle that. Bruce was getting twitchy in the way that indicated the Other Guy was near the surface. She wasn't sure she could handle that, but she'd try, because Bruce was her friend and she wasn't about to start developing a phobia of him for no good reason.

Add all three of these factors together, and throw in a healthy dose of raised voices and arguments, and the result was a terrified Erin that wanted nothing more than to find a dark corner and hide.

Raised voices, no matter the blend of male and female, familiar and unfamiliar, reminded her of nights alone in her room, with only one man to keep her company (and not the one she wanted either). Only one man who was sometimes stone silent as he sought to harm her, and other times he screamed as his hands dealt blow after blow to her face, her back, her stomach, her thighs and breasts, anywhere they could reach. He screamed her worst fears at her, sending her back to that dark place where nothing she did ever brought any sort of relief, any sort of hope to ease the pain, physical or mental. Thankfully, more often now, she had Clint's voice, his warmth, those small moments to help buffer the agony that she felt . . . but now, in this situation, where there was yelling and a simmering angry tension underneath just barely controlled voices, Erin found it difficult to find any semblance of non-fear. This also meant that she couldn't focus on her work – testing the Tesserect's influence on mice.

So far, her findings were that the mice suddenly started acting distinctly unmicelike – exhibiting behavior far too evolved for a mouse, such as a sort of teamwork to escape from the first cage she put them in three hours ago. It was very disconcerting that it might also be influencing humans in such a way, never mind that her hypothesis and simulation had essentially said as much.

The question then became could it be fixed . . . and with the boiling atmosphere and her inability to focus, it was a question that was remaining unanswered. Pressure was building now – she was scared, she was angry that she was scared, she couldn't focus, time was rapidly spinning away from her and she had to hurry, to solve this, before it somehow became worse.

Erin was not a woman to yell or to express her frustrations in any manner except perhaps a bit of self harm, as demonstrated to Bruce a few days ago when she hit her head against her desk. But now, this jumble of emotion and pressure of the atmosphere was quickly leading her to place where she was going to snap.

"Agent Romanov, if you would please escort Doctor Banner to his-" She could hear Fury attempting to regain control of the situation, and she felt her cynicism poking fun at him – it was far too little, far too late.

"To where?" Bruce snarled bitterly, and she could feel her anger surging forward at his next words. "You already rented out my room."

"The cell was just in case-"

"Just in case what?" She couldn't keep quiet any longer. A small part of her observed how silent the room went at her voice, and it quietly wondered if her angry tone was enough to silence a room full of extraordinary people. "In case he went Other Guy on your ass? Your own damn fault if you ask me."

"This isn't any of your concern-"

"Doctor Bruce Banner is my friend, you pompous idiot," Erin snapped. "That makes it my business. Moreover, you're the one who dragged me into this, so yes, I would say it is my concern."

"We weren't going to-" This voice belonged to the woman from before, the one with the cool tone that exemplified Mike's and added to the layers of and terror and anger a single covering of irritation, which only made Erin's blood burn hotter.

"I don't want to hear it!" Erin snarled, standing with such force that her chair toppled over. "I don't give a fuck what your damn intentions were, I don't care why the fuck you thought a nuclear deterrent was a great idea when it obviously didn't work with a man who is several times more intelligent than you are-"

"I told you she liked me," Tony's voice cut in smugly.

"That's funny, because she didn't sound like she did three hours ago," Captain Rogers barked back roughly.

"SHUT UP!" Erin screamed, aware that she was at the center of everyone's attention. "Both of you, shut the fuck up! You sound like fucking toddlers picking at each other and I'm sick of it! Tony, you need to shove your fucking ego up your ass because that's the only place it'll fit and Captain Rogers, you need to get fucking laid or _something_ because you cling to rules like a babe clings to its mother. ALL OF YOU are disturbing my WORK so please, if your name is NOT Anthony Edward Stark or Robert Bruce Banner, get the fuck OUT OF MY LAB!"

"We can't do that, not when Loki's plan is to unleash the Hulk," the woman's voice was belittling and derisive, mocking her, before it switched to calmer tone when the woman addressed Banner, "Which he's doing successfully, seeing as you've already been provoked."

Erin snarled in the woman's direction, but was cut off by Bruce's voice, "And you've been doing what exactly?"

"We've been trying to-"

"Keep me calm and under control and baring that, you were planning to kill me," Bruce's anger was just barely restrained now. "But you can't, I know, I've TRIED."

Silence reigned after his admission, and Erin felt the oddest combination of pity, horror, and surprisingly fury at his statement. Turning slowly to face what she thought was his direction, Erin murmured in a soft, quiet voice, "I beg your pardon?"

Had he been Caroline, Bruce would've known what that soft tone signaled, but as he had no clue, he continued, "I got real low, and didn't see a way out, so I put a pistol in my mouth and the Other Guy spit the bullet out."

"You . . . you attempted . . . are you FUCKING NUTS?!" Erin exploded, and she felt more than heard Bruce jump in surprise. "Don't you EVER . . . your life is worth more than any death! Running from it isn't going to change it!"

"Just like running from us solved all your abuse problems?" Tony's voice was harsh, and Erin physically flinched.

"That was different," Erin muttered through gritted teeth.

"Sure it was," Bruce said, his tone deep and low and horribly horribly angry. "So, did you ever attempt it Erin? Did you? Well I moved on, I focused on helping people, and then you all dragged me back here. You want to know what my secret is Agent Romanov, you wanna know how I stay so calm?"

A strained silence remained, until Captain Rogers spoke in what she recognized as his diplomatic soothing voice, "Doctor Banner . . . put down the scepter."

A soft beeping noise broke the tension and Erin reached down onto the floor, yanking the chair up in a frustrated manner and sitting back down at her desk. Bruce stiffly set down the scepter and wandered over by her to the screen making the repetitive noise, "I guess you don't get to see my party trick after all."

She tried to focus, she really did, but now she just felt tired and awful for yelling at all of them – she hated conflict and tried to avoid it as much as possible, but she had just initiated a metric crap ton of them on her own. Having Bruce nearby, even if he probably hated her (which brought another wave of guilt and sadness onto her conscience), acted as a sort of balm, as did the lack of raised voices in the lab. Turning back to her work, she had just enough time to hear Bruce say, "Oh my god . . ." before her world exploded.

* * *

She could hear the bellows of Hulk and Thor fighting somewhere on the other side of the Helicarrier – that it was echoing all the way to the detention level was astounding and somehow not surprising in the least. Caroline quietly scurried along the hallway, attempting to keep her balance as the great air carrier began to fall from the sky. She slid a few feet and then hurried faster through the hallways where lights were flickering and giving the whole area a strangely eerie feeling. Every time she passed someone she was certain they would demand where she was going, but no one ever did. Her hands were sweating with the anticipation racing through her body, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips nervously. Finally, when her nerves were completely on edge, she reached the door that was her ultimate goal.

She had heard the explosion, knew Hawkeye was wandering around somewhere in the carrier, and could only figure it was a 'free-their-master' type deal. That meant they'd be going to free Loki, and that's why she was here. Maybe she could stall him long enough for one of the Avengers to get here to put him back in his cage.

On the other hand, she reasoned as she felt her eye twitch, it was just a likely that she might tear Loki apart herself for putting her through that friendship and then disappearing without a trace.

The door slid open soundlessly, catching the Norse God of Lies and Mischief in the act of stepping out of his prison, assisted by a man whose eyes were frosted over a crystalline blue at the control panel. Without hesitation, she pulled out her handgun and shot the man at the control panel – his body jerked and he stumbled back, tripping and knocking his head hard against the wall, rendering him unconscious. After the bullet had left her weapon, she turned it onto Loki, her eyes hard.

The man had the nerve to look amused. "Agent, I'm afraid that you'll not have such an easy time of subduing me."

She clenched her jaw, "I never said anything about subduing you, but I am considering tearing you apart for not recognizing me after nine years Loki."

The barest hint of a frown crossed his face before a cool and relaxed mask slid into place. "You must have me confused for someone else. I have never been to Midgard."

"Don't lie to me," Caroline hissed, stepping inside the room and allowing the door to slide shut behind her. Her weapon never faltered even as pain filled eyes locked onto Loki. "We were friends for six years – six! You answered my prayers and taught me magic, and about Asgard and about how you wanted to make your father and mother and brother proud! We played together, we concocted tricks and you . . . you became my friend and I counted on you. Then, Loki of Asgard, one day you vanished. You disappeared without any good-bye or reason . . ." She was horrified to discover her voice cracking slightly at the end, but she swallowed her tears and forced herself to remain focused on him.

His face remained impassive but she could discern the confusion in his eyes. The frosty blue his eyes seemed to have turned began to slowly fade, leaving the beautiful green she remembered, before the confusion cleared and the blue once again took precedence. "You have residue of my magic on you, so I know you do not lie mortal . . . but I do not remember you."

There was a horrible sense of finality in that tone. Caroline could not help the sense that she had forever lost her best friend. The sense of betrayal and pain was stronger than ever before, calling forth unbidden tears to cloud her vision even as her arms wavered and fell, the weapon falling from numb fingers. Sadness upon wave of sadness rushed into her, drowning her with their strength.

Following the swell of sadness and betrayal came the abyss of white hot anger – her muscles stiffened and her jaw clenched and she managed to speak between gritted teeth, "You forgot me? You _forgot_ me?! You . . . you . . . you bastard! HOW DARE YOU-"

"Sssshhhh," Loki's voice came right next to her ear. "The magic residue is a protective one – at one time you had my favor mortal. Out of respect for this, I shall not kill you." Her eyes darted forward, meeting his chest, and slid up to his face which was once again stone cold. "But you are in my way. I will not allow anything to stand in way of my conquest of this realm."

She needed to move, or say something, or scream, or do something, but she didn't. Instead, black began to creep up the edge of her vision, blurring with her tears, until she succumbed to Loki's spell and fell into unconsciousness.

* * *

The explosion had startled Erin, and jarred her body out of her seat. She had landed on the floor and laid there, trying to put her balance back together and get her ears to stop ringing so she could think for a moment. Tony and Steve had scrambled out of the lab, closely followed by Fury. Thor had run off somewhere and Agent Romanov and Bruce had also vanished. Trying to take stock of the situation, Erin had slowly sat up, hand going to her temple as the ringing continued. Her ears picked up the sound of panicked running outside the lab doors and the sound of Agent Romanov pleading with something . . . below the floor? Hulk's sudden roar had scared the bejeezus out of her – though not afraid of Bruce, she did admit to being slightly wary of the large green rage monster. The sound swept through her, spurring adrenaline into her body, and she had quickly gotten her feet under her. With the assistance of her desk, she managed to get herself onto two feet, wincing as the ringing only seemed to get louder.

And somehow, that was when she had remembered the alarm on her laptop that let her know when unexpected results were present. Furiously, hands flew across the desk, finding the piece of shrieking equipment. Nimble fingers typed rapidly on the Braille keyboard and Erin released a sigh of relief when the alarm faded. Soon though, her attention was drawn to what had set off the alarm.

She had set up an experiment upon receiving the scepter, putting the weapon into a cage with four mice. Upon making contact with the rodent's rib cage, energy had oozed from the scepter into the mice; fortunately, she got to study the effects without ever quite figuring out how the scepter had activated on its own. The four mice had to be separated – they worked together to attempt to escape, exhibiting very un-mice-like behavior in the process. After two hours of study, one mouse had died presumably from the stress of attempting many things mice were just not capable of, and removal of that mouse's brain and heart tissue revealed that the energy connection to the cells was very weak. When she had snapped earlier, and yelled at everyone, she had been trying to focus on discovering a way to remove the energy, hypothesizing that because the bonds were weak, it shouldn't be hard to vanquish it with a similar burst of energy or some other form of cure. But now . . .

"Tesserect radiation and energy completely gone from test subject B," the computerized female voice reported. It was nothing like JARVIS; this voice was completely mechanical and derived of any sort of personality. It was only a simple program meant to report results recorded by the computer's analyzer she often had running during her experiments. "Subject was thrown when unexpected interference occurred with a magnitude of 7. Subject's head connected with side steel wall of cage; immediately following, Tesserect radiation and energy weakened until it vanished completely."

Erin frowned and typed in a few new variables to the model she had slowly been constructing during this particular experiment. Combined with the simulations she had created earlier in the week, she was slowly beginning to get a clearer picture of the Tesserect . . . she only hoped it was wrong. Because if her suspicions were right . . . then their enemy might not be Loki. At all.

Seconds passed sluggishly as Erin remained tense, focusing completely on the simulation running on her laptop. It seemed like years had passed before the computer beeped once again, and the mechanical female voice spoke, "Model shows that a jarring impact may be enough to sever the bonds the energy makes to organic tissue. More testing is recommended to ensure little to no error."

It was enough. Erin straightened and spoke, "Is anyone still in here?" Her voice was urgent, and she received no reply. Cursing quietly, adrenaline flooding to her body, Erin ran her fingers along the edge of her desk, kicking glass shards and twisted pieces of metal away as she quickly moved to the door. It was still open; the scent of fear, of surprise, of smoke and burning metal filled the air and set her senses twitching. She heard shouting and yelling down both ends of the corridor, echoing loudly through the halls. Unsure of which way to go, Erin choose to go left out the lab doors. Hustling her steps, her hand running along the hallway wall, she started to slide when the floor under her feet began to tilt in a very disturbing way.

With a jolt, Erin realized the ship was falling from the sky. She wanted to pause, to puzzle out what was going on exactly, but she couldn't. She wouldn't let herself. Very unbalanced, almost clumsily, Erin continued on her way, try her best to not fall over as the ship shudder under her feet. Praying quietly to any deity that might take pity on them, she swallowed hard and kept going.

Or she would have, had she not tripped over something very large. With a shriek, Erin plummeted to the floor, feeling pain explode in her hands as she caught herself against the hard unyielding metal. With a groan Erin sat up for the second time within twenty minutes and reached down to figure out what was still caught on her foot. Her blood froze and body stilled when fingers connected with rapidly cooling flesh.

She had tripped over a dead body. Feeling disgusted and wanting to shrink away, the blind woman found she couldn't, fingers trailing over a nose, smooth hair in a ponytail, eyelashes that tickled her skin and told her that the eyes were open, blank and unseeing in death. Closing the lids, the biochemist swallowed hard, struggling to hold back hysterical tears and feeling nauseated beyond belief. Her hands continued exploring the unknown woman's face, coming to the sides of the head and feeling two normal human ears . . . with something inside one. Frowning, Erin rested whatever it was free from the confines of the corpse and curiously explored it, her reason for leaving almost forgotten.

It felt like a blue-tooth headphone of sorts, something very similar to what she used when working in her lab. Unnerved by this, Erin was about to put it back when the radio crackled and Fury's voice boomed from the tiny hearing device, "Barton's heading for the detention level! He's going to get Loki! Does anyone copy?"

A very shaky sounding female voice answered him, "This is Agent Romanov. I copy."

Erin remembered Caroline telling her that one of their agents was under Loki's control, and immediately surmised it was probably this Barton. Decision made, Erin fit the earpiece to her own ear and clicked the button, "Can anyone hear me?"

"Who is this?" Fury demanded.

"It's Erin, erm, Doctor Griffin," Erin spoke quickly, standing and looking at what she hoped was the corpse. Saying another silent prayer for the soul of this deceased person, Erin turned away and continued down the hall the way she had been planning to go. Soon, she hit some steps and she began to climb, still speaking as she did so, "I figured out how to break the Tesserect's hold on the controlled people."

"How?" Romanov's voice was urgent, desperate almost.

"A sharp jolt to the head – it'll break the weakened energy bonds and should hopefully return them to normal," Erin replied, still wandering around wherever she was, her hand on the railing that had continued from the stairs. "Think of it like a concussion – you're literally jarring the brain back to its original state."

"Copy that," Romanov's voice crackled over and it went out.

"Good work Doctor. Get somewhere safe and hide there until we get rid of the people attacking our ship," Fury cut out before Erin could ask any questions.

The railing led her to a corner, and she dimly registered she hadn't heard any noise for a few moments outside of the two she had been speaking to over the earpiece. Figuring this was a good a place as any, Erin slid into the corner and curled herself up. Adrenaline fading, Erin only felt tired and numb. It had been a very long four hours and all she wanted to do now was stay curled in this corner, hopefully a place where she couldn't be found unless she wanted to be.

* * *

She was here. Clint couldn't believe his eyes. When he had rounded the corner and heard a voice he had knocked an arrow and prepared to kill yet another SHIELD agent that thought they could stop him.

Instead, he had been faced with the obsession that he had been nursing daily and nightly, the woman he had fallen for so hard. She was there in front of him, a few cuts on her face, her hair tightly pulled out of her face in its normal French braid, a long sleeve red t-shirt and black pants clothing her form. Her make-up was a mess and his eyes instantly caught on the healing bruises.

Rage rushed through him. Clearly, she had been abused in his absence. He quietly cursed SHIELD and Loki both – if only he had been able to return to her sooner, he would have been able to protect her. It couldn't be helped now, and he simply tempered his rage by thinking of the torture he could inflict upon her sorry meatsack of a husband.

She stood up and walked away from him, and he followed, placing his arrow back into its quiver. His eyes never left her, watching her move with the grace he admired and wanting nothing more than to pull her into his arms and never let her go.

A niggling thought pricked through his delight of having his woman so near – what was she doing here? She wasn't with SHIELD . . . unless . . . they had been using her to get the Tesserect back, or something similar to that. Clint wouldn't put it past Fury to use any resource he could find to get back on even footing with Loki, and that included using a woman who was blind and had no business being drawn into this war. His jaw clenched angrily – as much as he admired Fury, he had made a big mistake by dragging Erin into this.

He watched as she slid into a corner of the catwalk she had climbed onto. The lower lights threw shadows onto her face, and it was at once a sight that filled him with sorrow and lust – she looked so weary, so tired, but at the same time, the shadows brought a sensuality to her that he hadn't noticed beforehand. He grit his teeth against the sly thought that he could take her now, take her here with no one else around, and she wouldn't resist, especially when he revealed who he was to her. But no – he would not have the first time he tasted her be during an assignment.

Turning away from her, he promised to come and find her once Loki had all he needed, and he would take her away from here, away from this war, and to somewhere nice, where he could love her the way she deserved to be.

He walked away from that corner, taking twisting turns and following the grid back to the detention level where he had been ordered to meet up with his superior. His thoughts were full of Erin, and he simply could not stop seeing her curled in the corner, so small and fragile, and warmth bloomed in his chest when he thought of protecting her from the world. She deserved it after everything she had been through.

He was so preoccupied her missed the Black Widow sneaking up behind him – suddenly there was pain in his head as she slammed him forward into one of the steel poles supporting the walk way. Searing light burned into his mind, and that tiny screaming voice that hadn't left him alone broke free in triumph. No longer did he feel like he was flying while being crushed, no longer was his obsession with Erin so all-consuming, no longer would he have to serve . . . and he could thank . . .

Turning with a stumble, Clint's clear eyes looked at the cautious form of his partner. "Natasha?" he slurred out, seeing her fist head towards his face and falling unconscious almost instantly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Alright ladies and gents, I worked my butt off and got my grades to where they needed to be. I'm just waiting on my placement. Methods and Student Teaching will probably lead me to having no time to write from September until April but hey I'll try to squeeze stuff in here and there. **

**I do wish to apologize for the shortness of this chapter – it wasn't my intention, but this little glimpse is necessary. Next chapter gets heavy and dark and things start to work and . . . well . . . this was needed.**

**This chapter fits so well with the song "Let Me Go" by 3 Doors Down. Seriously. I don't own that song BTW.**

**Also, I can sum this chapter up in pretty much one word – HAWKWARD. **

**Italics while underlined indicate thoughts, like this:** _This is my thinking__._

**Plain old italics indicate particular emphasis in a sentence.**

**Disclaimer: Blah blah blah don't own the Avengers or anything associated therein. I just own poor Erin, her life, her story, yadda yadda yadda. And Caroline. I own her too.**

* * *

Her heart stopped in its chest when the door slid open. She heard _his_ voice talking quietly to Agent Romanov. His low voice inspired a blossom of warmth in her chest, but did nothing to resuscitate her pulse. Their voices cut off when the door slid closed behind her and she definitely felt their stares on her. Erin froze in the doorway, feeling very much like one wrong move would kill her. Still his voice was ringing in her ears. It was as if he were speaking directly to her, despite the lack of noise from inside the room.

Clint. Oh god. Clint.

She . . . how . . . but she . . . and he . . . this . . .

_Well,_ her thoughts voiced faintly, _this explains his random appearances at Hal's, huh?_

Erin mutely cursed Fury. She had spent the time after the attack finding her way back to her lab. However, before she had returned, she was accosted by one of the Agents roaming the halls. He had instructed her to take a small device (a hand-held scanner, keyed into the Tesserect's brand of radiation and its patterns as discovered by herself and Bruce) and go to Agents Romanov and Barton in a med bay not far from their current location. Apparently, should Barton prove to be radiation free, he would be sent out in an effort to try to fight Loki . . . or so that was what she gathered.

She swallowed and clutched harder to her laptop, a thin raindrop shaped device resting on top of it. Her mouth opened and her tongue darted out to lick her lips nervous, "Director Fury sent me to make sure there's no traces of the Tesserect radiation left in Agent Barton's mind."

Her voice sounded frail and hollow in the silence of the room, and she nervously clutched her laptop tighter. She couldn't explain her instinctual dislike for Agent Romanov and she refused to examine anything beyond a comfortable friendship with Clint . . . but she literally felt trapped. It was as though she were caught in a whirlpool in her own mind. Each emotion loudly demanded her attention, though she was dazed enough that she wasn't able to give any beyond attempting to remain upright.

"Well, are you going to do it or not?" The cool feminine voice broke in to her daze, sounding oddly impatient.

Erin's lips twisted into a frown before she was able to collect herself. She bit her tongue, focusing on regaining her composure. When she had succeeded, she walked into the room. "Direct me to a desk and I'll get started, Agent Romanov."

"To your left about three strides," his smooth voice broke in softly. "Do I need to get put under Doc?"

"No," Erin replied shortly. She could feel the tension in the air increasing, but the glowing warmth and soft memories of different times was beginning to win the battle against her nerves. She moved in the indicated direction and sure enough found a small table to set her lap top up. She opened the portable computer after carefully setting it down and typed in a few keystrokes. The computer let out a chime to indicate the program was ready and that she needed to simply activate the teardrop shaped scanner and place it against Clint's temple.

Sighing, she stood up and turned the device on – it clicked and whirred to life and she cocked her head to the side. "I need to place this on your temple, Agent Barton."

"Behind you, five steps," came the terse answer.

Erin followed his instructions, trying to ignore the silence and the feelings that were whirling on Hell's merry-go-round in her mind. Instead, she lifted her hand which was caught by a calloused one that was warm and much larger than her own. He guided her wrist to the appropriate level and she placed the scanning part of her Tesserect-sensitive radiation device against his right temple. She hit two buttons and then the large circular one at the edge under her thumb, and the device beeped once, twice, then began to hum quietly as it scanned.

Still, it was the only sound in the room and she had the oddest impression she had interrupted something important. Her heart sank slightly – these two agents were obviously close, maybe partners of some sort, and her friend had once described Natasha Romanov to her. The woman was gorgeous and had none of her problems. Plus, Natasha had a mysterious past among other things that only increased her allure. Surely Clint had a thing for her.

That was depressing. Erin could feel her dreams start to fade in the face of this new idea. If she had interrupted some sort of dalliance or maybe even a comforting talk . . . well then . . . This was awkward.

But, aside from that, why was it so awkward? Was it because she was hyper aware of Agent Romanov sitting not three feet from her? Was it because she wasn't sure if she was stunned by her revelation of Clint's job? Was it because the warmth and fuzzy feelings of desire and caring and something _more_ bubbled eagerly under the surface, waiting to be screamed into the silence? And all this as she worked to find the answers SHIELD demanded?

Not that it mattered. She only liked him as a friend. Either way, though, she couldn't pinpoint it.

Time stretched on and on and on as the device clicked away. Oh how she wished someone would say something! The silence was driving her to fidget in place so that even the pressure of Clint's steady hand couldn't keep her still. Indeed, if it weren't for Clint, there was no way the device would be kept steady.

"Alright there Doc?" he asked calmly. There was a quiet strength and patience hidden in his touch that not only made her feel safe but inspired. She was nervous, but her fiery spirit reared its head backwards, drawing comfort from his touch as she took in a deep breath.

Bastard. He knew what was wrong with her.

"Yes," Erin replied, her voice less startled but still not near her normal tone. What was taking the damn device so long?

"You sure?" he murmured softly, and his thumb, curse it, had begun to rub small imperceptible circles on the inside of her wrist. Her nerves came alive at that point, dancing and sparking at the tiny gesture. There was a stronger warmth in her chest than before thanks to him, which seemed to taunt her with the fact that he might actually care for her. The jolt of heat successfully stole most of her attention however, bringing a hyper sort of awareness to her body. Every nerve buzzed quietly with a desperate physical need.

"Y-yes," she stammered just as quietly, feeling a blush bloom across her cheeks. The heat to her face probably tipped him off. Just by knowing him she could guess that his sharp eyes zeroed in on it and also could guess he was giving a quick smirk . . . though the last guess was more based on the twitching of the muscles under her hand.

Finally, after eons seemed to pass, the device finished clicking and let out a shrill beeping noise. Erin pulled away from his hand (and was it just her or did his touch linger, as though reluctant to let her go?) and returned to her laptop, typing away rapidly until the computerized voice told her that it was processing the data it recorded. She waited impatiently in the silence, fidgeting slightly until the computer chimed again and the familiar female voice began to speak:

"Subject is clean of Tesserect radiation. The scanner found no trace of any left in the system of the subject."

Erin breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a smile stretch across her lips. She turned her head in the direction she'd come from and delivered the good news, "You're clean, Agent Barton. No Tesserect radiation detected anywhere."

"Great," his voice said calmly. "Thanks Doc."

Erin closed her laptop, stood, and fought not to race out of there. "You're very welcome. Stay safe now. And try not to get too close to evil crazy people trying to take over your mind, alright?" She left before she could hear his reply. The snort of contained laughter, though, told her that Clint wasn't the only one capable of hitting a target perfectly.

As she wandered back to the lab, she wondered how long before he'd seek her out, or if he even would. Time was of the essence here, she knew, so she probably wouldn't see him again until the next Hal's visit. Then, however, she stopped dead in her tracks. A feeling of cold dread broke through her warm haze. _What if he doesn't come back to Hal's?_

She tried to shake that though as she continued walking, but the damage was done. Doubt had embedded itself in her brain and though she fought it, tried to purge it from her mind . . . it remained.

Burying herself in the last bit of work Fury wanted her to do, she tried to forget her doubts, to return her world to what it should be – just an abused woman, trying to live her life with the occasional safe haven in a stranger's touch and voice.


End file.
